The Lion & the Eagle (2022) #4

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First things first: writer Garth Ennis does, as usual, get some tears from me. Lion & the Eagle #4 isn’t what I’d expected, for better and worse, but the inevitable Ennis war comic cry arrives; very last minute this time; I’d been expecting the issue to be a constant tearjerker.

Ennis purposefully avoids the consistent dread, fear, and misery to get that final surprise. This issue opens with the British Colonel talking to his Indian major about things and realizing even passive racism is terrible, and he needs to stop perpetuating it. The scene’s a big swing and a big hit. It’s a great start, followed by orders to withdraw; the operation is a failure, and it is over. The troops will have to retreat on foot through the jungle, leaving behind the wounded, something the Colonel promised his doctor pal he’d never do.

Character names aren’t crucial in Lion & the Eagle, though names being important ends up being a plot point in the extended epilogue. Despite opening the series as a character study, Ennis has become comfortable pulling back the narrative distance to a long shot. There are still lots of names floating about. Reports, whether status or casualty, are the majority of the talking heads scenes.

The talking heads scenes are where artist PJ Holden loses the book. He leans into the efficiencies he’s been developing as bandaids throughout the series. Instead of expeditiously getting the comic through an otherwise slow scene here and there, the entire issue is bland talking head panels. Worse, Holden’s rushing through the faces and expressions. At one point, letterer Rob Steen assigns a balloon to the wrong person in a long shot, and his confusion’s wholly justified. Even in long shots, with the characters wearing very different outfits, Holden’s composition’s muddy.

Thank goodness for the script. The issue’s a whirlwind, with the Colonel realizing command means not being able to keep promises, which has all sorts of repercussions for his relationships. There’s a great flashback to him visiting his Indian major’s village, too. Ennis has got some fantastic moments throughout.

And the finale’s good. Ennis brings all the Colonel’s character development (i.e., realizing imperialism is bad, actually) together and loops around to the first issue. Sort of a “and what did we learn today,” but outstanding.

I’d been hoping Lion & the Eaglecould bring Ennis up to the next level. It’s unclear if Holden held it back or if Ennis just hasn’t gotten there yet. Based on how much character development he saved for the final issue, I’m guessing the latter, though the former sure doesn’t help.

Still, the comic’s going to be a superb single-sitting read.

The Lion & the Eagle (2022) #3

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I haven’t been betting against Lion & the Eagle. The first issue assuaged any Aftershock fears I was having after writer Garth Ennis’s horror comic for the company. The second issue was excellent. I fully intended to be Ennis war comic weeping the next and final issue. But I wasn’t expecting Ennis to do anything major with the title; artist PJ Holden’s already doing the European album size. Being square and bigger is enough.

And then Ennis has a spectacular series of narrative jabs this issue, turning Lion over on its head a couple times before turning it around too. It’s incredible. Especially since he doesn’t do it until the second half of the issue. The first half’s full of exposition and action; the second half’s reflection on it. Only then Ennis completely changes the narrative distance on Lion after giving it some solid whacks as the doctor character tells the army guy what’s up a couple times, and the army guy’s got to sit with it. Then there’s a Communist soldier soapboxing about the military-industrial complex, and it’s phenomenal. I can’t give away the big twists, either. There are two, one with the narrative distance, one with the narrative. Both do peerless character development work. Ennis is on fire.

And Holden’s keeping up. This issue’s simpler—the occasional silhouette, more frequently white backgrounds—but more emotive. Holden focuses on how the scenes hit, whether they’re talking heads or the dramatic ones. Not to mention there’s a phenomenal battle scene. Holden scales from close-ups on emphatic white to gory, frenetic battle action. It’s a beautiful book.

So now I’m expecting an Ennis war comic weep and being floored by whatever he and Holden come up with. Ennis has been doing excellent war comics for over twenty years now, and, somehow, he keeps getting better. He leverages the natural exposition of military command—someone can always be explaining something to someone else—and then works in historical detail, but he’s breaking out of that norm with Lion. He’s using character relationships while also playing with narration.

This series will make a wonderful collection someday; hopefully hardbound and obviously oversized.

The Lion & the Eagle (2022) #2

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This issue’s one part history lesson, one part ground situation establishing, one part war action. The Chindit forces are moving into position now, airdropped behind Japanese lines to wreak havoc. Writer Garth Ennis tells most of their successes in summary, outside the opening battle sequence, where artist PJ Holden reveals how glorious and gory the art will get.

Though Holden does once again get a little confused with the shifts between time periods. It’s particularly noticeable this time because almost the entire story comes through in dialogue about the latest war developments, so the issue demands attention. Even then, the time shifts are wonky.

It’s a minor complaint, however, and the only one. Otherwise, Lion & the Eagle is fantastic comics storytelling. Ennis plays around with the layering, giving the reader the backstory on the Chindit operation as a postscript once their mission changes. He’s very deliberate about the narration from protagonist Crosby and where and when things get introduced. Unlike the first issue, there’s not much in the way of character development. When Crosby’s pal, Alistair, finally gets something to do and Crosby muses on the last issue’s revelations, it’s almost the end of the issue, and these aren’t the most essential musings of the day. There’s a war on, after all.

Ennis puts a lot of effort into the supporting cast, starting with Havildar-Major Singh and his professional relationship with Crosby. Ennis spends much of the issue introducing the Gurkhas, the fearsome, joyful Nepalese soldiers. Ennis (and Crosby) get to have some fun amid the horror.

The history also seems ripe for a story, just the way things happened. Not even the Japanese forces being more formidable than initially assumed, but how happenstance can change the course of an operation and history. Ennis and Holden take their time with the comic, never rushing a conversation or briefing. It’s precise and exquisite. As expected, but still incredibly impressive.

The Lion & the Eagle (2022) #1

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The Lion & the Eagle is oversize; bigger, squarish pages. Artist PJ Holden doesn’t fill the larger canvas with more panels, instead increasing the panels’ sizes, filling those larger pages with bigger content, not more content. Holden also does a lot of top-third double-page spreads; he’s clearly thinking it through.

So it’s unfair when the issue’s only problem seems like an art problem. It’s not; it’s an editing problem. The issue has a running flashback, and the transition returning to the past doesn’t work because it’s entirely about writer Garth Ennis’s narration, with a disconnected visual.

It had me confused and reading the issue mistaking one resolution for another. However, it’s an excellent comic even with the stumble, with Holden’s expressive, character-based art and Ennis’s combination of reflective and informative writing.

Lion & the Eagle is a World War II story; the protagonist is a white Indian army officer. They’re loading up to mount an offensive against the Japanese, who’ve been kicking their asses the last few years without the British government really taking note. It wasn’t until the Americans showed up with vehicles and weapons they’ve been able to even consider an advance.

The issue opens with the officer, Crosby, having a conversation about the state of the war with a Chinese observer. Crosby then goes and hangs out with his doctor best friend, Leonard McCoy… wait, no, Alistair Whitamore. They go from war politics to race politics, thoughtfully bantering; it’s a war buddy story.

While talking, Crosby remembers the time they first met; cue tense flashback.

Lion & the Eagle doesn’t spare the gore, though all of it is in flashbacks so far. While we get some context for the flashback’s resolution, all the information about the current operation—the series’s main plot—comes during dialogue exchanges, and the characters often talk about the impending mission.

Holden does a fabulous job with the talking heads. There are a lot of talking heads, including in the flashback, during non-combat action scenes. The art’s the most impressive thing about this larger format; what could’ve been a gimmick is not; as usual, Holden and Ennis are making something special.

The Stringbags (2020)

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When I saw the announcement for The Stringbags, after the obvious glee at a new Garth Ennis comic, the publisher stood out; publisher Dead Reckoning is the graphic novel imprint of the U.S. Naval Institute’s Naval Institute Press. So war comics but for war history enthusiasts, which is about the only way to phrase that demographic without making them sound exceptionally callous. And something about Ennis working with them clicked, potentially; he’d finally have a place—theoretically—with a matching concern for war comics.

And The Stringbags is even better than I’d hoped. It’s not just Ennis getting to do a longer form—a hundred and eighty-ish pages split into three parts, so it’s the equivalent of eight issues? Only without forced twenty-two page chapters. Ennis gets to take his time. Each part of Stringbags has text exposition, giving historical context, sometimes bridging between scenes; it’s great text too. Ennis writes history with a mix of enthusiasm and flair—he takes it seriously, explaining his creative choices with facts in the afterword (because he too seems to recognize the potential of the project)—so even as you wait to find out what’s happening to the heroes, you don’t really want the lecture to end. Ennis is concise and fact-filled, with an intention of making those facts count not fill. The historical context stuff often has very little to do with the eventual story content—with major exceptions, sure—but there’s also a history of the Blitz just to set up a scene occurring during the Blitz but its content unrelated. It affects the initial read pace in the first part, then changes throughout. The second part, which has that Blitz opening, ends up being the shortest as far as the text exposition goes but has the most historical contextualizing in it. You get the feel for the time period, knowing what Ennis has explained, seeing how the characters interact with each other in it, with the setting. It works out beautifully and, really, could be Ennis’s thing going forward with this kind of work. He’s finally comfortable enough telling the history and making a story in it. He’s had war story heights before, some quite high and even more effective than Stringbags, but he’s never done the history amid the historical fiction so well before. It’s fiction with straight non-fiction tangents.

It’s awesome.

Stringbags is the story of these particular planes—the Fairey Swordfish, which was a cheaper, older plane used by the Royal Navy—WWII, at least in so far as it relates to the planes (like where they were used), and then the three fictional leads. In that order of importance, but the fliers don’t make any sense without the planes and the war and vice versa. Like these planes were so slow barrage balloon cables couldn’t cut them fast enough. Enemy ships and planes’ guns weren’t timed for them. So the pilots are experiencing the events around them through this slower paced lens; in the first story, they sit back to watch the British bomb Italian ships and are in almost pure wonderment. Ennis has this fantastic narrative distance to play with; the three leads are in the war, but detached from it, both by the speed of their plane and then of their combined circumstances. Captain Archie is a mediocre pilot with goofy man-slut (but pretty thirties chaste) Ollie for a navigator and then gunner Pops, who’s been in the Royal Navy for ten years without a promotion. Archie gets ambitious, which changes their destiny and gives Ennis some particular points of view to examine the events through. They’re occasionally stereotypes so Ennis can get across the average—besides the three, there’s only one other recurring character; everyone else is purely functional—which contributes to the whole feel of the setting.

So, really good work from Ennis. Like I said, he’s figured out how to do this comic. Because the heroes aren’t just trying to get through their missions, they’re trying to get through the war, through life. The third part—heavy on history text third part—is also the culmination of a distance C plot in the first part and then a still distant B plot in the second. Ennis does it subtly. Or maybe he doesn’t and it just seems subtle because he’s got this inherent distraction of the history text.

I’ve read Stringbags three times and will definitely read it again. But reading it each time, once Ennis and PJ Holden establish the comic’s narrative language, this anticipatory enthusiasm kicks in. Stringbags is always good in the right way and Ennis doesn’t restrain himself in finding ways.

Holden’s just as important. Stringbags has details without being too detailed. There’s a fluidity to the people, particularly when they’re talking or listening, and a different kind of fluidity with the action art. Holden’s very affable with the characterizations too, so it’s fun to see how the leads react to things. Their expressions, occasionally gestures. It’s fun. And the book can get away with the lightness because these guys are removed from their surroundings. Technologically detached, which fits them.

The Stringbags is, one more time, awesome. Even if it doesn’t kick off a new phase of Garth Ennis’s creative career, it provides another supporting pillar in it.

Phonogram: The Singles Club (2008) #6

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Wow.

Gillen wants the reader to through pages and pages of poorly written text with bad punctuation. The writing eventually gets so bad I had to give it up.

Here, instead of a bad person in Phonogram, Gillen wants the reader to enjoy making fun of the loser. I’m not sure why he included this character in the story, since he brings nothing to it except some laughs–and this issue clearly shows Gillen can’t stretch it out.

It’s a strange thing to be asked to dislike a character; Gillen has done it twice now. I’m not sure why he thinks it makes Phonogram worthwhile. I do like how the last page (seemingly unintentionally) implies the character is gay.

The backups, with art by PJ Holden and Adam Cadwell, are nice.

The Holden one is actually a good story, even with Gillen’s bad narration. The Cadwell one has good art.