Scalped #35-38

With the release of the latest issue of "Scalped", Vertigo's premiere ongoing crime title has finished it's new spell of one-off stories. In preparation for a longer arc that is to come, Jason ("Other side", "Ghost rider") Aaron has scripted three accessible self-contained episodes, illustrated with the help of guest artists. Regular artist R.M. Guera was presumably so busy with the follow up story arc that he only found time to complete the final of these four issues.

Interestingly, the publisher has commissioned the work of expressionistic Danijel ("Plague", "Rex") Zhezhelj, with his issue being the first to open this latest cycle. The Croatian artist's style is so unique that anytime Vertigo uses him, he completely overpowers anyone's idea of a typical fill in. With his layered and painterly disposition, Zhezhelj is perhaps the publisher's most distinctive artist, which fits with Aaron's story providing a temporary break from the series' typical stylings.

Focusing on the farm life of an elderly couple, it brings to mind the independent work of recent Vertigo addition Jeff ("Essex county trilogy") Lemire, a slow, atmospheric work that seems an antithesis to "Scalped". Yet, the far more brutal ongoing still practices a leisurely pace, with it's frequent rotating points of view making such a connection possible. Zhezehlj picks up on this, and starts putting his rough brush strokes, and heavy inks at play, to try and capture a desperate family dynamic. Gulia Brusco's colors never let up from making the problems these people face appear anything less than bleak and unforgiving, while at the same time preparing the reader for the cathartic ending.

Acting as a complete break for the series, this is the most successful of the three latest short stories, yet it still falls short compared to some of the series' previous high points. As usual with these tales, Aaron's main writing contribution ends up being his choice of an interesting narrative perspective, for providing another view of the life on the Rez. This time, it centers on the farm outside the immediate casino surroundings, and it certainly provides for a distinctive experience. Yet, seeing the writer treat such a simple yarn through the medium of two dueling narrations, seems as excessive as some of the background recalled by the characters in captions. As a writing experiment, the story would have most certainly been better of by stepping back and leaving Zhezhelj to handle the bulk of storytelling with his distinctive visuals. Yet, even such an overwritten issue as "Listening to the Earth turn" doesn't prepare the reader for the story that follows.

And while it once again shares the writer's enthusiasm in creating a dense and layered backdrop, the very themes he chooses to spotlight provide for a very uncomfortable experience. On the face of it, by choosing to portray a solo mission the longtime background character Shunka is being sent to, it feels much more at home with the longer "Scalped" story lines. Yet, despite the plot-heavy approach, the writer once again aims for a decidedly simple emotional core, based on a very particular and polarizing aspect of Native American culture.

Davide Fuerno's art capably follows the series' conventions, easing the reader to deal with the controversial themes. Yet, the regular fill-in artist's work is so solid that it calls attention to itself, by reminding the reader of the artist's sheer improvement in technical prowess. Fuerno's soft penciling gives way for much rounder and realistic figures than before, instilling the characters with some much needed humanity and unique designs that are perfectly in tune with Guera's work, yet highly distinctive on their own. Gulia Brusco follows suit, with sepia toned coloring that maintains the pulpy black and white quality of the series' predecessors.

The story they illustrate is the one most adhering to the neo-noir conventions, which Aaron tries to subvert, while remaining true to the form at the end. yet, while the ending serves to bring the escapade in tune with the wider "Scalped" storyline, what precedes it is decidedly polarizing. On the one hand, the fractured narration, and chilling outbursts of violence are the series' forte, and they are used with great care and the precision in the first part of the story. Yet, the second half, with it's over the top narration that was it's only previous distraction leads to some very blunt storytelling choices.

And while the neo-noir trappings serve to round out the whole thing as an unexpected murder mystery, it still feels decidedly ham-fisted in both it's moralizing and the level of violence. Perhaps in retrospect, the excursion could be validated by picking up on the plot points down the line, and further integrating them with the larger narrative. As it stands, "a Fine action of an honorable and catholic Spaniard" is still certainly the most immediate of the short stories, and would likely headline the collection, should Vertigo decide to publish these issues on their own.

Finally, the last side story takes place completely in flashback, filling in the back story for Dash's father, and is once again a completely accessible entry to the series. It goes without saying that opening with a Vietnam war reminiscence takes a special note when taking into account Aaron's own biography. Being the nephew of the veteran combat correspondent Gustav Hasford, the writer was inspired to create his debut Vertigo work with "the Other side" mini-series, so that seeing him revisit the conflict in "Scalped" has much more than the immediate resonance. Even the issue's cover recalls the promotional poster to Stanley Kubrick's "Full metal jacket", that was adapted from his uncle's novel "Short timers".

That said, Aaron uses the opening pages dealing with the fighting to introduce Dash's father, exhibiting an air of the supernatural to his fellow troopers. This he proceeds to deconstruct, by detailing his life in the last days of the conflict. Even before Wade returns to America, Guera is once again set to illustrating the auto-destructive surroundings of a violent man's lifestyle, only set against a lush Asian backdrop, instead of the usual desert setting. Seeing the tragedy centered around a desperate man is nothing new to the series, and in fact the stylistic union proves something of a detriment to the episode as a whole.

The shootout that ends Wade's stay in Vietnam recalls Shunka's similar response in the preceding two-parter, and unfortunately brings to mind the many similar scenes from the accumulated thirty odd issues. That Aaron uses it to build up tension in the final scene taking place in America is a clever device, but one that doesn't make the story distinctive in it's own right. This is certainly fine in an ongoing series that needs to constantly redress it's core themes, but this far in "Scalped"'s history, a random graphic display feels largely inessential.

Moreover, the whole issue seems designed to close the short story cycle by returning the reader behind the typical parameters of Aaron and Guera's work, and it feels strangely limiting. "The Family tradition" ends up being memorable mostly for the regular series' artist returning in time to begin the next issue's "Unwanted" story arc, picking up on the shocking developments of issues 30-34. And with the series entering it's final phase, it seems that the self-contained stores that were so informative in it's beginning have settled into providing local color that is almost superfluous these days.

With three whole years behind it, "Scalped" has long since become the slow boiling neo-noir tale it's creators envisioned, thus making further fragmentation hard to justify. It could be excused previously, with the main character going into an extended seclusion, but certainly not now that he's in a different situation. Of course, the answer to that once again lies with Vertigo's decision to publish it's ongoing titles with no breaks in schedule. The editors count on the writer's fascination with the setting to provide for an entertaining diversion, but in doing so they harm the overall structure.

Faced with the artists increasingly incapable of fulfilling the monthly deadlines when producing highly detailed work, the imprint would do well to break the mold and at least try to publish their creator owned titles as series of mini-series. By forcing Aaron to adhere to a strict storytelling model employed by "the Sandman", the writer responds by saving the important story beats for the larger arcs, regularly bridged by short stories not illustrated by Guera, that seem to increasingly relish their tenuous grip on the series proper. One can't help but feel that with a looser artistic style enabling the artist to work faster, "Scalped" would have ended up a much shorter and more concise book, that still exhibits it's traditional methodical approach, without breaking clear to embrace the trivialities of it's bit players' background.

the Marvels project 1-8

This last Wednesday brought the conclusion to the eight part "the Marvels project" mini-series, by the celebrated "Captain America" creative team of Ed Brubaker and Steve Epting. In commissioning the story, Marvel must have wanted to celebrate it's 70th anniversary by green lighting a more ambitious project centering around the Golden age heroes, than the oneshot Specials published throughout the year. In many ways, this was always a risky proposition, considering that the company's heyday was always in the 1960s revolution of superhero publishing, but charging Brubaker with the project, they were certainly counting on the continually solid writer to approach the assignment with serious intent.

In itself, it quickly became labeled as yet another mini-series retconning the carefree days of the late 30is days of first superhero comics, a territory recently touched upon by series such as "the Twelve", and even "Ultimate origins", all striving for the prestige of an effort such as Darwyn Cooke's "the New frontier".

"Marvel projects"' basic outline consists of covering a time span of roughly two years, detailing America's preparations to officially take part in World War II, from the fantastical point of Marvel's early superhero characters. In choosing a narrator to smoothen out the jumps between such a large cast, Marvel has chosen to spotlight it's first superhero, the little known Angel, who has recently surfaced in the "X-Men: Noir" line of books. He is the focal point through which the reader slowly gets a glimpse of the huge conspiracy, that ends up giving birth to the Marvel universe, by basically getting America to war with Germany.

Unfortunately, the Angel's heroism and background of both being a doctor, and a son of a prison warden, somehow translate to the page as bland and unconvincing, therefore making him perfect for the role of the narrator. The framing story pertains to the company's modern day universe relevance of the tale unintentionally confirms this, as the new take on familiar events ends up being designed to propel a new character altogether, introduced in it's closing pages.

Truthfully, this was always going to be be a problem considering that one of the main challenges of the whole book was spotlighting heroes other than Captain America, the only one of these Golden age masked men to have an ongoing series in the present day, alongside the perennial guest star Namor the Sub-Mariner.

Yet, by evoking the word Marvels, the company was also intent on drawing a parallel to the seminal graphic novel of the same name, whose first chapter centers around providing the most recognizable modern version of the origins of some of these characters. The original Human torch, who was on the cover of the first issue of "Marvel comics" from seventy years ago, is even rendered using Alex Ross' updated character design. And for all of the care used by penciller Steve Epting and colorist Dave Stewart to translate the painterly interpretation on the pages of the traditional comic, the effort cannot help but seem derivative.

And so it is with much of the story, presented in a dense and competent way, yet reserving most of it's emotion for the book's final scenes. Tying the story around Captain America's frequently retold origin seems sensible, considering his status as an important superhero archetype, but it somehow ends up diminishing all of the other characters that "Marvels project" wants to introduce to the modern audience. In opting for a single plot tying them all together, Brubaker has once again relegated them to bit players, whose garish costume designs jump off the page, but despite the lightness of touch they remain curiosities defined by little more than their overblown code names.

This is particularly obvious in a scene involving the Human torch and Namor's epic clash, and the Marvel comic books' first historical crossover, depicted skillfully, yet slighted due to the scope of the project dictating it be cut short. It ends up as an excuse for a telling scene, pulling back the focus to the previously unmentioned effort of the therefore unconnected superheroes helping save the ordinary people from the tidal wave. The many Golden age characters get but a cameo appearance, before the real conflict is resolved by once again featuring Captain America, thus diminishing the Human torch's finest hour for plot purposes.

Among the curiosities spotted in Epting and Stewart's murky debris are some of the characters given attention in JMS and Chris Weston's "the Twelve", driving a sharp comparison to that series. "the Marvels project" ends up seeming much more general and laborious when measured up to what was an exercise in reintroducing the long forgotten Golden age characters front and center, one that is still talked about by the audience, despite the prolonged delay in production.

The simple fact is that Marvel's Golden age staple of characters hasn't been a draw for the audiences for a long time, even with the recent Alex Ross' "Avengers/Invaders" maxi-series, which the company must have been well aware of before green lightening this newest project. And with such a broad focus, they seemed to want to lay a classic all time foundation to their modern universe, but such an effort would seem to need much more passion than the workman-like attitude exhibited by Brubaker and Epting. And truly, they cannot be blamed for having left the series without much in the way of a personal touch.

By commissioning a book so heavily reliant on research, both of the Golden age comic books and the real world events of the time in order to foster largely a retelling of well known stories, a true success would have called for needed nothing less than the passion of Kurt Busiek and Alex Ross' series of the same name, that seemingly ushered in a market for large scale nostalgic projects. And such originality is nowhere to be found in Brubaker and Epting's work, perhaps precisely becasue of the number of interpretations that have inspired it.

Somehow, the dusty beautiful pages depicting the 1940s New York end up being continually driven through by precisely the same high end automobiles of the time, as if by using the best recognized model of everything relating to the book would somehow make it a classic in it's own right. Such a calculated approach on what must have been a very expensive mini-series recalls a big budget Hollywood period piece that still falters at it's humblest - the basic idea at the heart of the well costumed recreation.

Using John Steele as an example, the reader is treated to a very obscure Golden age hero, as he awakens to his potential, and starts combating the Nazi threat behind enemy lines. Yet, he does it in such a way as to appear utterly generic and hard to provoke any sympathy with the readers. Even his design is such a stock action hero look that he ends up being distinguished by name only, yet another player in a huge cast, whose plot relevance would determine the importance of his addition to the story. There is no real excuse for such a treatment, considering that John Steele is a completely new face to the modern audiences, and Brubaker and Epting had every right, perhaps even an obligation, to change him into a much more interesting character, no matter the inconsistencies with the original simplistic idea.

The duo are somewhat better at redeeming their inclusion of the less propaganda-inclined characters such as Phantom bullet, whose background ends up adding some dimension to his over the top unappealing costume. Unfortunately, such characterization is mostly implied via the Angel's caption boxes, as they typically set up a scene shift for another part of the planet, sometimes to further elaborate the role young Nick Fury is needed to play in his heretofore unmentioned having helped liberate doctor Erskine, the scientist behind the process that created Captain America.

As for the immediate plot, it sets to humanize the German spies playing the role of their masters in New York's suburban neighborhoods, replacing the typical prohibition gangsters as the standard Golden age comics foes. By having such strong motivations for trying to smother the superhuman boom in America, and eventually reverse engineer it in their own laboratories, the story gains some pace as a legitimate thriller, when not switching back to provide the origin of even such minor characters, as Human torch's sidekick Toro. Even when these scenes are somewhat integrated in the shady proceedings, they still break form by subverting the hard won 1940s atmosphere. It's very hard to get into the history/science-fiction mash up when faced with Golden age minutiae of the Torch enlisting as a police officer to get a better perspective on the humanity. In this aspect, DC's more fantastical "the New frontier" was much easier to consider, which, Kennedy's speech aside, didn't really consider itself with reality, beyond what was needed to retell the origins of Silver age superheroes, before uniting them to fight on the Dinosaur island.

"The Marvels project" employs a much more naturalistic art style, and the many panels illustrated with every brick in the wall visible, or a typical rooftop water tower in the background seem determined to drive home the subjectively more realistic Marvel universe. This shaky balance is especially the problem in later chapters, as the somewhat more sympathetic German spies get replaced by the much more fanatical supervillain foes. The problem is that there is no real conspiracy for any reader familiar with the broad strokes of Marvel's past, without even brining the real world events into play. The story Brubaker supplants as the connective tissue between the bevy of superhero origins works almost too well, as it seamlessly connects them to play out their familiar tales, with most of the surprises relegated to the very last chapter. It itself, the scope once again ends up becoming the problem, forcing the villains to act through the proxies, while the page count gets eaten up with Captain America, Namor and the Human torch reenacting the most iconic events of their Golden age past.

This is to be understood at some level, considering that with their elimination, the creative team would likely end up constructing a story that could have been done using any of the rival publishers' staple of superheroes, at a time when they were new and mass produced for the hungry audiences. Still, the lack of an actual new element, to act as a secret at the heart of the plot of the conspiracy, does rob the book of some much needed innovation. Brubaker and Epting are careful to try and pace the dense story in a way that it doesn't overpower a new reader, but they leave out a simple idea that was present in a project such as Brian Bendis and Jackson "Butch" Guice's "Ultimate origins" mini-series.

Leaving aside the tie-in to the "Ultimatum" line wide event, Bendis was constructing a story that still centered around the company's most famous characters, and not their Golden age predecessors. Captain America and Nick Fury (himself a Silver age character) notwithstanding, the story centered around Spider-Man and the Hulk, with the chief revelation concerning Wolverine and the X-Men. In such a way, the writer managed to both tie the Captain America's and Wolverine's origins into a story that provided direct foundation for the line, without getting bogged down in watered down history and underdeveloped obscure character revamps.

But then, "the Marvels project" seemingly never had such a clear set of goals, existing as it does to map out a history of the superhero universe, that was more or less created wholesale twenty years later by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko, working for a company that but inherited the rights to the previous publisher's back catalog. As such, they made rare references to the period despite propelling Captain America as the leader of the Avengers, while recreating Human torch as a completely different character. And when you have him recognizing Namor as a staple of Golden age comic books, before he goes to fight the rest of the Fantastic Four, it's easy to recognize the inherent discontinuity behind the late 1930s original "universe".

And even Ed Brubaker and Steve Epting at their professional best couldn't do justice to a time period more famous for it's subsequent retcons. In retrospect, Marvel is best to try and negotiate the completion of "the Twelve" series, which is justifiably becoming recognized as a rare successful effort in revisiting their Golden age past. Both Brubaker and Epting known to continue working on a serial such as Captain America, that is at least concerned with something of a current grasp of politics, while being rightly considered the publisher's premier superhero solo title, the irony of it's Golden age origins aside.

BPRD: King of fear 1-5

With this week's conclusion of the "BPRD: King of fear" mini-series, Dark Horse has promised a major turning point for the franchise. The Hellboy spin-off has up until now been remarkably stable and has lead the publisher to experiment with other similar projects. Ironically, amidst the many spin off minis, the main "Hellboy" series has been distinctively separated from the bulk of the material, leaving "BPRD" to act as de facto flagship title for the whole line. This is all the more remarkable, considering the limited engagement Hellboy's creator Mike Mignola has had with the series of mini-series that is "BPRD".

That Dark Horse is well aware of the virtues of writer John Arcudi and artist Guy Davis' work could not be clearer, considering that "King of fear" is poised to act as a break from the accumulated continuity, but only in conceptual terms. The creative team is set to continue with their roles, with their effort going a long way to provide hints as to the upcoming direction.

Structurally, the five issues are bookended by two long conversation, that fittingly, start and resolve the future direction of the team, albeit from an administrative stand point. In between, the cast is split in two locations, revisiting both the first mission of the team's current incarnation, and their last outing with Hellboy that preceded it. "King of fear" is at it's strongest when it centers on Kate Corrigan, the human face of the paranormal fighting organisation, as she reconnects with a potential love interest from the previous mini-series.

Leaving aside more iconic characters such as Abe Sapien and Liz Sherman, the creative team use those scenes for a trip down the memory lane, that resonates with the feelings of both elegy and horror. The tension is released through the carefully chosen interaction between the characters, as Kate and Bruno discuss their relationship along with the history of the organization. Although the precise incident that leads them to "Hellboy: Conquerer worm"'s Hunte castle feels a bit contrived, a stray plot from the previous mini-series, the rest of the recap works wonderfully.

By sifting through the ashes of that final Hellboy mini-series that was to serve as the ending of the character's adventures in fighting the remnants of occult Reich, the creators employ limitless patience in recapping large amounts of plot, in a way that is very accessible and inviting. Unfortunately, this whole subplot is cut short, as it simply ends with the immediate situation involving Johann Kraus is resolved at the close of the second issue. The back and forth with the scenes featuring Abe and Liz thus turns into two subsequent issues devoted solely to the situation at hand in the "Hollow earth" locale from BPRD's debut mini-series.

The shift is purposeful, as it enables the series to capitalize on the drama and the foreshadowing. A more direct kind of horror is encountered as the BPRD team start investigating the Agarthan monastery, but it still leaves a lot of room for reminiscing of the organization's adventures, following Hellboy's leave. Unfortunately, no doubt because of the amount of plot Mignola and Arcudi needed to reference and provide some kind of closure to, a lot of it requires the reader having recently (re) read the previous books.

Such as it is, the bulk of the sentiment comes of, but, as always with Mignola's epic mythology, some of the minutiae might seem distracting. This is not a problem when it comes to separating giant monster Gods Ogdru Hem from Katha Hem, but it seems a bit careless, when it comes to having one of the team's major foes reappear not only without a proper name, but also lacking the context that was so lovingly introduced in the Hunte Castle scenes just an issue before.

Still, analyzing the scenes for what they are, they reveal a typical adventure plot, with the group even further splintering, enabling the villain to monologue for a long time. This is followed by some contrived drama, giving way to a conversation with Abe Sapien, considering his origins. Having separated Liz Sherman in what turns out to be the action sequence receiving the largest amount of time, Mignola and Arcudi proceed to recreate what feels like the whole of her tenure with the organization. Thus, her scenes end up enacting a dream like sequence, proclaimed to be the definite future by her mystical contacts.

By and large, both Abe and Liz have been in the similar predicaments before, but the ending of the fourth issue suddenly turns out to bring a huge change to the mythos. With the final issue, it become clear that the many homages and call backs have served a definite purpose, and that was to provide an end point to what has been the previous decades stock of plots involving the team. And even more, it serves to set up the make up of the characters and their world that the creators seemingly can't wait to get to. Unfortunately, such a shift seems not only slightly arbitrary, but largely unclear, as the fifth issue starts some time after the directly preceding events. Perhaps the creative team would have been better off, had they used the designated space of "King of fear" mini-series to depict the rapid fire events in more detail, and simply leave the setting up of the new direction for the beginning of the next book.

Even with this, Dark Horse's latest effort mimics "Conquerer worm", that acted as the epilogue for a whole era of Hellboy stories. Yet, while Mignola's decision then certainly seemed noble, as everything in the remarkably dense and complicated plot seemed to indicate that the then-current direction has worn out it's welcome, the same couldn't really be said for "BPRD", at least not at this point. It stands to the testament of the creators that they feel so visionary so as to sidestep the problems that would befall them some time in the future, by making the change so well in advance. Only time will tell if the adventures of BPRD post "King of fear" indicate a turn for the better, or an arbitrary decision, brought on by enthusiasm.

In any event, the mini-series itself has interestingly spent a large amount of space tying in with Hellboy, who was up until now much more present in spirit. By explicitly featuring the dark future that the main series has worked towards, BPRD could well be on the track of realigning to the flagship that has somewhat distanced itself from it's spin offs. Then again, the series parallels the parent book's plot once again in hinting a role for Abe, almost as conflicting and important as that foisted upon his friend's shoulders. The only concrete sense of the book's new direction can be found in the team's next adventure, that could well serve as much of a drastic change of pace, as the initial BPRD mini-series has seemed to the Mignola's work thus far.

Yet, the book didn't really gel into feeling until Guy Davis and John Arcudi succeeded Christopher Golden and Matt Smith. Davis especially brought a distinctively different feel to the art that was missing from the slightly derivative "Hollow Earth" mini-series. And just as the readers warmed up to the war on were-frogs as the book's central plot, so was the new artist quietly accepted as inseparable from the title, a quality that he's retained since, and that is in full display in "King of fear". Interestingly, he is called to illustrate the flashbacks to scenes previously featured in the pages of "Hellboy", and while such a direct comparison to Mignola's iconic art certainly slows down the book, the artist more than makes up for it in the reminder of the series. As always, Dave Stewart is called to separate the mood by coloring David's work differently than the series' creator, bringing out both the bizarre and humane in the characters through his characteristic earthly hues. Again, just being able to read the solid, dynamic layouts of Guy Davis is a boon to any reader familiar with the series, and will no doubt serve to further cement their hopes that the continual stability of the creative team is for everyone's benefit.

John Arcudi was Mignola's second addition to the series, and his character based flavored storytelling is once again on display in "King of fear". And while smoothening out the BPRD creator's mythology is certainly a much less apparent when done in the elusive co-writer credit, he has certainly brought a lot the the series. In regards the just finished mini-series, Arcudi was certainly willing to carry out some swift twists and turns, while all the while keeping his characters grounded and sympathetic. It's a testament to his strengths as a writer that he has managed to keep the writing on a spin-off at such a high level, that it has remained both respectful to the characters, and the accumulated continuity, as well as always providing for interesting excuses to make for the backdrop of a very solid genre book that is BPRD.

All that said, "King of fear" remains what it was advertised to be, a drastic change for the series, and a culmination of almost seventy issues of plots getting to a head. It was also noted to make up a somewhat larger trilogy with the two preceding mini-series, which doesn't really cohere taking into account the continuity that was called upon, and still left partly unresolved following it's conclusion. In any event, it's another typically strong volume in a very particular series, that has persistently remained a fan favorite precisely because of the unusual care and caution employed by everyone at Dark Horse. And even better, there is no reason to think that it won't continue as a prime example of horror/science fiction at it's comic book best.

Jack of Fables 41-45 "Kings of earth and sky"

That "the Fables"' first spin-off was a controversial project was clear from the start. Putting the unlikable rogue Jack of tales in the lead role was always an ambitious choice, but the truly polarizing aspect of the Vertigo title's second ongoing series was always it's ambiguous co-writing credit. Yet, Bill Willingham and Matthew Sturges' "Jack of Fables" has preserved for years as the supporting title, with sales closely following the parent book. This has given it's creators a chance to freely enjoy their trademark multi layered self-aware storytelling that never tips it's hand to the readers.

Unlike "Fables", it's perennial troubled spin-off has always toyed with the metafictional aspects that fully acknowledge the difficulty of the ideas involved. It was always a title that spun some rather far fetched pulp inspired yarns, yet remained tongue in cheek the whole time, while teasing some rather improbable and unnerving events. Right alongside the black humorous bulk of the narrative involving Jack facing the basic tools of writing fiction, another subplot kept getting alluded to. And in "the Great Fables crossover", that was to wrap up the three years in the making saga, and have the character come full circle with Fables that he has come to stray from, it finally debuted.

Following on the heels of the parent series' new status quo, the mini event saw a new hero take center stage, and hinted at the changes to come for Jack's own series, all in a manner that was as literal as possible. yet, Jack's teenage son still seemed like merely one of the many new characters involved with the proceedings, while admittedly most of the others being even more obnoxious with their roles and titles. Still, following an unfortunately placed fill-in story, the co-writers stayed true to their promise, and started radically altering the series' premise.

The first arc of the new status quo still had to wrap up the loose ends of "Jack of Fables"' previous three years of stories, which in effect meant double billing the page count to host both the logical conclusion of Jack's adventures, and the introduction of his son's first adventure on his own. The shift in direction seemed sudden, but like always with the title, felt planned well in advance. In the new section, the reader was treated with an innocent fantasy episode played ironically typically, but there was still an expectation that the two narratives will collide in the last chapter. Interestingly, Willingham and Sturges had decided to play coy, and have Jack's tale end completely separately, while only soliciting his son's further pulpy adventures as a follow up. The reader, long treated to a purposefully murky storytelling and outright lies by the narrator as part of the standard comedy routine, expected everything but that, particularly considering the "Fables"' history, and the Vertigo's general trend of grown up fantasy storytelling.

And, of course, this is precisely where the co-writers decided to go next with the series. By transporting their hero to yet another new world, they opted for a full on epic fantasy science fiction mash up, with the previous protagonist mentioned only in passing. Thus, they got to graduate his long prepared successor to the title role, and even more importantly style the complete storyline after him. Even the opening text along with the hints at the end of each issue, long infamous for their sarcasm and general uselessness, thus turn into tried and ready hyperbole, hinting at the further adventures of the tragically noble hero.

The self sacrificing lead character is once again shown to be a complete departure from his egoistic father, which is exactly the point. Willingham and Sturges were well aware of how loathsome the never changing scoundrel Jack of tales has become, so following the crossover, they slyly set out to replace him with a much more likable new face. This meant making him the most naive and good-hearted of the protagonists, constantly trying to help those in need, while thankfully finding suitably grand quests lined up in wait for him. In "Kings of earth and sky", young Jack Frost has to try and liberate a whole kingdom from the giant ruler of the planet, while being constantly beset by the people he's trying to save.

On the face of it, it doesn't get more heroic than that, and also more bland. The co-writers have once again purposefully set out their new protagonist on a very generic quest, subtly following the tales that inspired his predecessor, and spiced it with typical subplots. The constant twists come at every turn, as Jack learns not to trust people unequivocally, while risking losing his only friend and mentor, the magical owl MacDuff. Seemingly, the reader is witnessing a slow coming of age story of a young man that could one day become a ruler of a magical kingdom, if he's not beset by sudden death. It's just that such stereotypical storytelling completely opposes the core concept of "Fables", and the entirety of the sinisterly clever "Jack of Fables" run.

The constant presence of Babe the blue ox's page (undergoing a particularly interesting blandification paralleling the main plot) reminds us that there is no chance that such a status quo will remain much longer beyond this introductory arc, meant to stun the readers into once again doubting the whole point of the series. Even the ending blurb hints at the return of Frost's father, by featuring a seemingly generic title of the next arc, that still reveals a clear link to the previous storyline. Willingham and Sturges are once again prepared to shock the readers, but the real question turns out to be how the ambitious idea is mean to work out.

Taking a lot of the readers' loyalty for granted, "the Kings of earth and sky" still doesn't stumbles in delivering it's promises. The execution is flawed on several levels, most apparently on the artistic front. Simply put, Tony Akins the series' regular penciller is called upon do deliver so much detail that he splits the artistic duties of the middle two issues of the arc with Jim ("Crossing midnight") Fern. This problem was sidestepped by having Russ Braun work on the whole of previous storyline, but in "the Kings of earth and sky", there's hardly a unity of style between the two different pencillers. Fern tries his best to continue Akins' initial ten odd pages each issue, but his figurework is completely at odds with the series' standard cartoony work. The jarring shift is very noticable in that the more realistic pages bring forth a completely different look to the "Jack Carter, warlord of Mars"-inspired storyline, immediately clashing with the pages surrounding them.

Thus, Akins' trying to incorporate layouts that echo Mark Buckingham's work on the main "Fables" series simply stop exhibiting the requisite dynamic in the fill in artist's pages, who more or less tells the story without any irony. This leads to Jack Frost's overblown heroics and his female friend's skimpy dressings turn from satire that was called for back into standard adventure story illustrations they were inspired by, before returning back to the norm with the start of every new issue. The colors maintain what little coherence remain, but the rest of the problems lie firmly with the writers.

While they are certainly to be complimented for presenting a well paced page turner, after so many "Jack of Fables" arcs that felt strained and overwritten, the most successful part of the storyline really belongs to their inspirations. And while they certainly find a way to channel the Michael ("Elric", "Jack Cornelius") Moorcock like pulp narratives steeped in the lurid haze of counter culture, Willingham and Sturges end up going too far in a single direction, risking the subversion of their own creative voices for the purposes of pastiche. And this is precisely what happens, as the series' traditional playful postmodernism becomes a distant subtext, easily overcame by ray guns firing through the sweaty psychedelic background.

Moorcock himself was always keen to stretch the form of the pulpy science fiction, but in sticking so close to his template, the co-writers gambled to entertain only the segment of readers familiar with his work, or otherwise generally susceptible to his hugely influential "Saga of the eternal warrior". What's missing is the concrete link to the series the readers have been following up till the beginning of this storyline, a knowing technique employed with potentially troublesome results.

It takes a lot of belief in the "Fables" brand as a whole to see "the Kings of earth and sky" for what it truly is, a middle chapter in the delightfully false new status quo that almost certainly won't last a year, before being tied together with the stylings that preceded it. It's just that read as a story in it's own right it might send a mixed signals message to its readers, who might not be so fond of the radical shift that "Jack of Fables" has undergone.

As an experiment in the continuing storytelling, the current direction of the series is in line with the title's constant ethos of subverting the readers' expectations of what they can expect from a spin off. Yet, as a story on it's own, it's completely dependent on future arcs to determine how the whole of this particular phase of the title measures up. This is certainly a bold decision, made by creators unafraid to follow their own creative impulses, instead of settling in the relative conformity of the tried and true status quo.

Wednesday comics: "Metamorpho"

"Metamorpho" was a one page feature that ran in all 12 issues of DC's "Wednesday comics" anthology. Scripted by Neil ("the Sandman") Gaiman, and pencilled by Mike ("the X-Statix", "Madman") Allred, it told a single continuing story, using the project as an excuse to give the character a rare high profile performance.

Obviously, when contacting Neil Gaiman to contribute to the anthology, editor Mark ("Batman: black and white", "Solo") Chiarello was well aware of the good will his fans will feel towards a story that even tangentially refers to his most successful project for the publisher. Elaborating on the back story of the obscure superheroine Element Woman, previously seen in "the Sandman", Gaiman still shied away from the series' adult fantasy storytelling, to go with the tone of DC's latest weekly series.

It's fortunate then that he was paired with Mike Allred, another contributor to his epic. And while their previous effort resulted in revisiting the company's long forgotten teenage president Prez, the tone of the new story called for still a different mood. The artist's trademark retro modern pencils and inks are still present, colored by his wife Laura, but the effect is much more nostalgic this time around.

Both creators seem to be trying their best to tell a classical Silver Age superhero story, concentrating their efforts by exploiting the unique structural opportunities of the newspaper format of the anthology. Thus, not only are all the characters on model, but their whole adventure could almost seamlessly fit in during the early days of the decades old character. That is, discounting the absurdly irreverent tone that is the creator's chief innovation. The knowing winks to the silliness of the characters and their basic set up are constant, but mostly kept in the background, except for the introduction of the reader's formal helpers, the bizarrely overenthusiastic 1960s children readers.

Yet, the exposition they deliver is actually vital to the story, once one gets past the constant jokes about the supposedly enormous popularity of the Metamorpho line of comic book titles. Even then, Gaiman leaves that idea on a sour note, admitting point blank that Metamorpho has nothing of the popularity he constantly alluded up to that point, that seems somewhat anti-climatic and unnecessary. As for the general tone of the script, the writer's imitation of the famously overwritten superhero comic books of the past is by and large enjoyable, except when it comes to constantly recapping the plot. This was necessary due to the anthology format, but still comes across just as tedious, as the strip's logo that "the Spirit"-like keeps getting integrating into surroundings of every new page.

Perhaps the biggest hurdle with reading Gaiman and Allred's pastiche comes in overcoming two whole pages of Gaiman trying to dramatize the periodic table of elements. Still, that kind of narrative challenge is exactly what a short story like "Metamorpho" was constructed for. The Allred family team follows every step of the way, taking on each page as a separate unit, and bringing forth the sense of adventure and irony that the script calls for. Reading it as a complete comic only accentuates the effort that went into coordinating the double page spreads, that were made to work even in their original form.

Of course, using "Wednesday comics" as a chance for playing with the form could never have worked as well in a DC Universe comic, if not for the solid character work throughout. In order to achieve the irony inherent in the outdated superhero concepts, the creators purposefully keep the characters on the model so much, that they start breaking from their two-dimensional confines to better reveal their comedic potential.

As such, the moment Gaiman and the Allreds figure out that the neanderthal bodyguard Java plays next to no role in the story, the creators turn him into a focal point for the deadpan delivery of some of their most inspired bits of comedy. The rest of the characters are so deeply enveloped in searching the ancient temple, all for their own reasons, that they mostly concentrate on getting to the bottom of a science fiction story that ties in with Element Man and Element Woman's origins. In order to achieve that kind of effect, the Allreds never stray too much from the characters' original Ramona Fradon designed forms, while retaining the "Madman" creators' signature physicality.

The story works even on that level, with Gaiman patiently imitating the rapid stream of child like display of super powers, romantic interest and a never ending stream of 1960s slang. The creators are still aware of how generic an adventure story they have put together, so they once again conscientiously overuse these Silver age plot devices in order to get their point across. And that is, no more and no less, an attempt to have a bit of fun with layouts of a superhero adventure short story, while still treating the Element Man with a nostalgic reverence the character hasn't seen in a very long time.

In the end, Gaiman and the Allreds' "Metamorpho" story is certainly not an attempt to update the character for a new audience, but exactly what it's supposed to be - an offbeat superhero short story, published in a weekly series celebrating the vitality of DC's decades old characters, by using the oversized newspaper format that most of their genre predecessors debuted in.

Spirou and the heirs

Serialized in "the Spirou magazine" in 1951, "Spirou and the heirs" was Andre Franquin's second major album working on the series. Unlike the title page of "the Wizard of Culdesac", the 1952 "Dupuis" published collected edition lists no creative assists in the credits. This is only the first indication that the writer/artist's effort feels much closer to his later works than even the first, lucid album.

It takes a very brave artist to proceed with the series by making next to no reference to the perfect long-form debut symbolized by the addition of Culdesac to the mythos. And yet, with "Spirou and the heirs" Franquin feels almost giddy in getting to enjoy the creative freedom all by himself. On the surface, the creator starts off seemingly naively, by revisiting the idea of Fantasio coming to the inheritance of the rich, previously unmentioned, cousin. By returning to the basic scenario of one of his first collaborations with Jije, Franquin doesn't satisfy himself with substituting the lead protagonist in charge of receiving the eponymous will and all the complications that go with it. The writer/artist uses this simple trope to wrap around three complete episodes, all spotlighting a major part of his creative inspirations.

The overarching plot of Fantasio and his cousin Zantafio competing to fulfill the three obligations needed to come into possession of the secret inheritance is therefore little more than a framing device that houses three distinctive chapters. Traditionally, the first one settles around Fantasio fixing to create a new invention, that is for once called for. This part of the plot begins as a fast paced physical comedy that must have been a delight to read in serial form. By the time the scheming cousin Zantafio rears his head in, Franquin is ready to start showing off his talent for drawing needlessly complicated machinery with very little practical purpose that has become the basis for most gags in his later "Gaston" series. This first part of the book actually peaks right before the big finish, with a series of hilariously over the top gags in the solicitor's house.

Thus, the final score on who gets to lead in the overall challenge feels tacked on and overlong, serving the wider plot that is largely superfluous. Interestingly, in the closing pages of this segment a rare metafictional bit occurs, bringing with it the only substantial reference to "the Wizard of Culdesac". And while it's easy to speculate on the inclusion of the arbitrary sequence, perhaps it's best to treat it as an advertisement for the collected edition of the preceding adventure. Despite the later "Gaston" spin-off being a place for the constant in jokes involving the publisher's office politics, Franquin sticks with the adventure storyline throughout "the Spirou and the heirs".

Yet, for all the fantastic contraptions Franquin comes up with as a running commentary on the continuing industrialization of the mid 20th century, there is no doubt that his inspiration comes from the cars. And while some of the artist's previous panels could be accused of having little in the way of atmospheric backgrounds, it all becomes next to irrelevant as the middle chapter comes speeding. Once again, the comic makes way for a sports event, that best encapsulates the challenge of the framing story. Even more, Franquin is so entranced by the prospect of depicting a formula race that he lends it by far the most space in the book, depicting in detail all of it's stages and ancillary events.

As for the story logic behind it, it's so childlike and naive that it defies criticism. Despite the idea of Fantasio and Zantafio receiving some training, it's best that the writer chose to spend as little time as he did on explaining how the two of them actually ended up in such a high end race. Once again, the artist falls back on using Golden Age criminals to set the plot in motion, and thankfully, he keeps it around to provide motion during the long racing sequence. Because, strangely, the all important track ends up feeling intensely decompressed, and actively in need of the subplot starring Spirou and Spip to inject energy in it.

On the other hand, technically, Franquin's craft is impressive, especially considering when it was produced. The cars' physical models, the sensation of movement and the intensity of the race is all depicted peerlessly, as if the artist was coming to the book fully educated on the subject. Of course, being a fan of auto sports doesn't explain the astounding layouts presented in "Spirou and the heirs", particularly considering that they hardly have much of a precedent in the comic book art before him. That Franquin more or less devised all of this movement himself is the album's definite high point art-wise.

Nonetheless, the race and the many machinations that erupt around it, would have benefited from some focusing and streamlining. Due to the rapid inclusion of seemingly every possible trope set around the race, the event loses a lot of momentum. It's almost certain that this was nowhere near a problem when originally serialized, but it definitely detracts from the work as a whole when sampled all in one reading. The problem can be summed up in the way the whole sequence ends, with Spirou and Fantasio riding an antique automobile, for no purpose than to provide Franquin to draw one. Interestingly, the crucial plot point tying the whole thing with the struggle for inheritance is dealt with in a single page, so as to propel the story forward and reignite the sense of rivalry between cousins.

Still, showing that Franquin indulging in his whims is creatively a very rewarding experience, is once again clear with the lest leg of Spirou and Fantasio's journey. After all, he is the creator that almost solely propelled them into one of the most popular Franco Belgian characters, and by taking them to the Palmobian jungle, he was preparing to make his mark that much more permanent. In fact, by presenting a fictional South American republic as a stand-in, Franquin unleashes some of his funniest moments right on the first couple of pages. The charming satire is quickly abandoned for a seemingly generic jungle hunt though, which can certainly be excused considering the animal involved.

Because, no matter the legal status of the character following the ending of Franquin's run on the title, Marsupilami has achieved an enormous and enduring popularity, and it all stems from a single plot strand of "Spirou and the heirs". Even in his original appearance, the weird monkey-like creature completely overshadows the protagonists. Of course, their trying to capture it results in a series of gags, but it's clear throughout that Franquin is absolutely fascinated by his new creation, and wants nothing more but to showcase its weird habits and abilities.

It's difficult to describe Marsupilami or even articulate what lead to his charm, but it's certain that somewhere amid it's gruff and unlikely ways lies a very endearing character. In any event, Franquin ended up being much more taken by his own creation than Spip, the squirrel that Spirou's original creator Rob-Vel came up with. It cannot be overstated that Marsupilami is an instantly memorable comic book character, and one that sticks in mind much more than Franquin's plots. On the other hand, his subsequent inclusion in the series' constant supporting cast has certainly lead the title far away from the subjective reality of the series, marking a clear line that delineates the Marcinelle comic book style. Simply put, depicting Marsupilami is as far away from drawing from life as the Smurfs are from "Tintin" and the more realistic ligne claire style.

Franquin must have been fully aware of the potential impact of his creation, as he quickly wraps up the last chapter of the adventure, and in turn the whole plot involving the inheritance. The unceremonious ending is valiantly hidden behind Zantafio's emotional breakdown, and the succeeding morale of the story, as imparted by the solicitor. After all the troubles, the ending feels hugely anti-climatic, and substitutes the actual pay off for shallow philosophy, seemingly thought up at the last moment. Still, this was arguably the only possible ending of a framing story that was from the start deceptively simple and unconvincing.

Yet again, the characters have ended their adventure with a very formidable reward indeed. The addition of Marsupilami to the cast, coupled with "the Wizard"'s setting of Culdesac have proven to be the chief elements that have made Golden Age characters Spirou and Fantasio such an enduring part of the Franco Belgian comic book scene. The only other, final major addition to the series was the introduction of a permanent villain, which was Franquin's final contribution to the mythos, after a long slew of albums.

Still, Franquin's departure as a way of maturing to different kinds of comics was still ways off in 1952, as the writer/artist was preparing to further integrate his new character in the world of Spirou, as set up by Rob-Vel and Jije before him.

Vengeance of the Moon Knight #1-6 "Shock and awe"

With the release of it's sixth issue, "Vengeance of the Moon Knight" has completed it's first story arc by Gregg Hurwitz and Jerome Opena tasked to rejuvenate the property for Marvel. Yet, despite the new title and renumbering, their take follows on Moon Knight's previous Marvel knights effort, as defined by Charlie Huston and David Finch. Apparently, despite the cancellation of the previous volume, at the time helmed by Mike Benson, the company has thought that bringing solid mid-list creators and tying the story into the ongoing status quo of the Marvel universe was enough to make for a healthy long run. The reasoning was that a slight change in direction would help ease the new readers, familiar with the overall Dark Reign direction, into sampling "Vengeance of the Moon Knight" and continuing with it.

By and large, this methodology meant slowly reintroducing the character to the familiar New York milieu, the reader would be treated to the of appearances of Norman Osborn and the Hood, who would slowly shift in the background as the title character's supporting cast takes larger prominence. In fact, there is a precedent for Osborn's controlling agenda contrasting with Moon Knight's vigilante status, as established in the previous volume.

The chief problem with the "Vengeance of the Moon Knight" is that it never honestly tries to push for a new audience, with the sales figures already betraying a return to the level of the previous incarnation's final months in the North American direct market.

This largely stems from the conservatism of the editorial. Moon Knight has so far followed the model of "Ghost Rider" and "Immortal Iron Fist" before it, with the company recognizing the critical acclaim won by the revamp of the long neglected properties by subsequently instructing the successive creative teams to immediately pick up on the plot threads and the same general approach. The fact that only Moon Knight was granted a new ongoing series, should have signaled the company to let Hurwitz and Opena have a much broader creative freedom, while the comics buying public still recognizes the property as one in which they will invest even if Marvel's biggest name creators aren't helming the relaunch.

In effect, this has created a title with it's heart in the right place, and a logical continuation from the point of continuity, while forgetting to imbue it with any sort of new take beyond Huston's, now four year old, reconceptualization. The thrust of Greg Hurwitz's take stems from the fact that this time Moon Knight is changing to be a better, more professional superhero, while struggling to keep his more psychotic and anti-social tendencies at bay. Still, all this is by and large very similar to Charlie Huston's version of the character, as defined by the continuing presence of Moon Knight's God Khonshu as a cartoon character, constantly urging the tormented hero to bloodletting.

Unexpectedly, most of the somewhat more light-hearted approach takes cues from Jeph Loeb's "Hulk" run, specifically the issues guest-starring Moon Knight and Sentry. The fact that both character were created without even the attempt to hide their similarities to Batman and Superman actually informs the relaunch in an unexpectedly big way, plot-wise. Seeing Sentry checking in on Moon Knight might appear as a typical Dark Reign tie-in sequence, but the creators treat it as something bigger than a token guest appearance. There is a sense that Sentry could actually continue to be a part of their run on the character, particularly considering that the accentuating the more heroic and Batman-like side of the character echoes throughout the rest of the relaunch. This is particularly obvious considering that most of the middle section of the story arc revolves around the escape from the lunatic asylum orchestrated by Marvel's own Scarecrow, a long standing Ghost Rider villain. Evidently, Marvel is not merely using all these callbacks to DC icon out of a simple sense of fun, but is actually aiming to establish some of the title's appeal as their own version of Batman, in a way not too dissimilar to the original "Squadron Supreme" concept.

Naturally, what follows suit is that the more personal aspect of Moon Knight's fight, as established in the original Moench/Sienkiewicz run, quickly rears it's head back in, as the character's nemesis, Raoul Bushman, literally gets ressurected as the series' chief villain. Despite Hurwitz's efforts to present Bushman as Moon Knight's Joker, and a continuing reminder of what he could be (and in fact already has been in times of his more violent phases), a broader analyses reveals a much simpler motive for his inclusion, beyond the game of homaging Batman.

Basically, Hurwitz and Marvel editorial have once again recognized the value in Charlie Huston's approach to the series, having appropriated a notable aspect of it for "Vengeance of the Moon Knight". The problem is that Huston dealt with both revisiting Moon Knight's origin and the definite confrontation with Bushman in establishing his first arc, and has since taken the character in a different direction. And while confronting the descendants of the organization that hired him in his original appearance in "Werewolf by night", and his own sidekick from the 1990s Chuck Dixon run on the title, could hardly be considered original, at least Huston and Finch updated the character and his operation for the current audience. And even then, the late 70-ies, early 80-ies anti-hero had a hard time keeping an audience, leading to crossover tie-ins, and Marvel eventually deciding to continue with less popular creative teams. All of his has brought "Vengeance of the Moon Knight" to where it now stands, as a paired down action book, trying it's hardest to distill the most commercial of it's previous elements and combine them with Batman tropes hoping to achieve a favorable reaction from the audience.

Realizing the genre cocktail as a fast paced adventure naturally falls on Jerome Opena's shoulders. In presenting the loud return of Moon Knight, on the surface the artist sticks with a typical Marvel style, using the first issue to attract readers to the detailed look of the company's perpetually late 70-ies crime plagued New York. Opena tries to win new readers by featuring Manhattan in daylight, filled with Dark Avengers billboards and a general fully detailed superhero art approach, that naturally starts to loosen up once the deadlines start catching up with him. Yet, despite the series returning halfway to the character's natural conveniently obscured nocturnal setting, the focus on the figure work in action still preserves the artist's greatest strengths.

Most impressively, Opena has a very firm grasp on Moon Knight's physique. And while the character remains slightly underdeveloped and generic when out of costume (matching his current unclear secret identity status), the schyzophrenic anti-hero has a very well defined look when fully armored. It is exactly when Moon Knight tries his best to be the hero, without getting caught up on the burdens of his past, that Opena's artwork shines the most, featuring a very detailed combat suit that nonetheless looks practical and realistic. The design itself would be enough to differentiate this iteration of the suit from all the others, heavily influenced by Sienkiewicz's take, focusing on the ghost-like aspect of Moon Knight's bloated cape. Opena goes even further, providing a very clear and knowing look on the characters' anatomy, driving firmly the supposed realism behind the concept of an urban vigilante. Just seeing the way the artist twist Moon Knight's spine in omvement is a testament to his impressive knowledge of figure work in action.

Unfortunately, despite the constant explosive violence, the artist doesn't get much of a chance to showcase his strengths as a storyteller. The short breaks provided for bringing some atmosphere to the ghost town of Charlie Hustion's updates to the Batman-inspired Moench concepts never amounted to something much more than checking in with the minutiae of Moon Knight's world, as established four years ago. The protagonist is certainly not a natural conversationalist, but that still doesn't excuse Hurtwitz's approach, which basically bundles up all of these quieter pieces to drive home the same point.

Everyone seems all too eager to chime in on how unlikely it is for Moon Knight to change, something that was already established in his conversations with Khnonshu in the character's rare lone moments. In fact, the only subtlety to be found on the pages of aptly named "Shock and awe" is in the mechanical way in which his longstanding on/off relationship with Marlene rekindles, and that is surely not a good example of the realistic portrayal of a long suffering partner's feelings. Namely, the statuesque blonde archeologist is just another piece of editorial mandate, employed in order to present the most potent version of the Moon Knight concept, in a misguided belief that it will be both accessible and inviting to the new fans, already familiar with the rival publisher's Dark knight.

Speaking of the creator's vision, it's severely underdeveloped. This is best seen in the subplot involving Crawley, Moon Knight's longtime associate. Namely, the eloquent homeless man is taken from his usual alcohol driven seclusion and featured in an over the top turn of events that leads to a sudden change in his behavior, played with all of the seriousness of a cartoon. And while this unexpected development provides a diversion from the horrors of Moon Knight fighting lobotomized mental patients, it actually points out to the creators' willingness to acknowledge their own take on the Moon Knight concepts. Unfortunately, this rare bit of satire sticks out as hurried and uncertain in what can be considered a much more familiar humor scenes featuring Spider-Man commenting on his fellow superhero, or even the Huston-inspired black humor associated with Khonshu.

Even taking into account that this is a fast paced action book first and foremost, at moments Hurwitz and Opena fail to synchronize, making for at least a couple of very confusion action set pieces. Still, this failing is much more tolerable when one takes into account the relentless speed with which the movement carries forward, and the constant need to shift perspectives in order to make the fight scenes stay fresh and exciting. Unfortunately, any kind of synergy exhibited by the writer and artist is already being dismantled, with Opena leaving the title for the duration. This comes to no surprise considering that he has already attributed to the book's lateness, being yet another artist to prove he cannot work under the impossible deadlines of a monthly superhero comic book.

The solicitations report that Hurwitz's next storyline featured Deadpool, whose profile has unexpectedly being raised by the "X-Men origins: Wolverine" movie in such a significant way that the character now has his own line of titles, ensuring that every week there is a Deadpool book on the stands. And while another of his rounds guest starring in another Marvel title is unlikely to significantly profit "Vengeance of the Moon Knight", it could potentially provide for some hurried juxtaposition between the juvenile violence that is sure to abound. And while it certainly cannot be said that the crossovers have benefited the previous incarnation of the title in the long run, Hurwitz is quick to issue that a more serious storyline is to debut right after. Unfortunately, the current sales reports strongly suggest that it may just turn out to be the title's last, with the return of Jerome Opena that much more likely to happen as a penciller fronting the launch of another title. If this was to happen, Hurwitz will most likely use it to wrap up the elements of his run, that seems troubled from the very start.

Perhaps, in the long run, it might be the best if Marvel was to leave the property be for as long as it take until they finally come up with a new approach that has a better chance of appealing to an audience, that is already weary of all but the most elaborate Batman titles.