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Duostar Racers #1 (IDW)
by Max Patterson

Before starting this review, I’d like to preface things a bit. I picked up Duostar Racers largely on a whim, without background information on its creator or any possible tie-ins. After doing a little research, I found out the comic is apparently related in some way to artist Ashley Wood’s other title, D’Airain Adventure, which in turn has ties to a bunch of other creator owned titles (Here’s the link to the article I found). How the two are related I don’t know, nor do I particularly care. The point I’m trying to make is that in the proper context, this comic may have earned a higher score (though I doubt it). In my opinion however, unless you slap a Vol. 2 on something or make it abundantly clear that knowledge of another title is a prerequisite for enjoying your book, there’s an expectation that it be accessible to new readers. As you may have guessed, Duostar Racers does not live up to that expectation, and while it has its merits, as the launching point for a new series (or even an introduction to an old one) it fails miserably.

I guess I’ll start by addressing T.P. Louise’s writing, because frankly, there’s not much to say. Some guy is looking for his brother, and two other guys are racing on the freeway. That’s it. There’s some dialog, but considering it’s largely without context (and pretty bland to boot), there’s never a chance to get a real feel for the characters.. The writing’s not particularly bad, and I wasn’t immediately put-off the way I was with, say, The Executioner. There’s simply not enough here to even make me curious about what’s going on, and the whole thing comes across as a series of disconnected scenes without unity or flow.
 
Still, the real focus of the book is obviously Ashley Wood’s art, something that will likely be a sticking point for many people. Wood’s style is unique, with much of his art abstracted to the point where he isn’t so much drawing scenes and characters as merely suggesting them. It’s certainly an interesting approach, and can often be quite visually appealing, but it ultimately makes for incredibly muddled story telling. That could probably be overcome with decent writing (or heck, even understandable writing), but again, everything is so vague it’s hard to tell what exactly is going on. A perfect example is the pair of racers; they seem to be using roller-blades or something similar, but it’s so sketchy and distorted that it’s impossible to tell what exactly they’re supposed to be doing. I’m not saying we need a point by point discussion of their gear, but it would be nice to have some inkling as to what’s going on. The real disappointment though is that Wood fails miserably at conveying any sense of speed in his art (kind of a big issue when your book has Racers in the title). Obviously it’s a tough idea to convey in a static medium, but writing VROOOM! in big letters across the page just doesn’t cut it. In a slower-paced, more atmospheric book Woods approach would likely be perfect, but in a title that seems centered around an action-packed activity, there just isn’t enough visual stimulation for my taste.

I like to consider myself a pretty smart guy, and it’s frustrating when I suspect something is flying over my head (See Doktor Sleepless, which still manages to hurt my brain with every issue) . With Duostar Racers though, as much as I’d like to think the book is avant-garde or simply too complex for me to grasp, I can’t help but wonder if maybe it just is what it seems to be; a pretty mediocre title.

 
TWO AND A HALF OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Final Crisis #1 (DC)
by Graig Kent

If I have one problem with Final Crisis it’s that I’ve read far too much about Final Crisis before actually reading Final Crisis. What I mean is I’ve been over to Newsarama and CBR and the like reading a plethora of interviews with Grant Morrison and Dan Didio and the other folks tangentially involved in the proceedings — not to mention having seen about a third of the first issue already via preview pages and images — thus my brain is swimming with insight into the series, which, quite frankly is distracting me from what’s actually going on in this first issue, as well as hindering me from honestly assessing the execution of the book.

My first impression was befuddlement. I was trying to pin too much of what I already knew (or rather was told and/or had read on the comics blogs) to what was on the pages. Morrison’s ideas on the New Gods (as previously presented in Seven Soldiers: Mister Miracle) seemed to be the focus of his interviews, but it’s only one small element of the book (so far). The tagline “The Day Evil Won” doesn’t bear fruit in this issue, although Morrison’s proclamation that it begins with Anthro and ends with Kamandi does. And yes, a fairly major hero (whose name, if you weren’t paying attention to the “rumor mill” [is it still a rumor if it’s indirectly confirmed before it happens?], rhymes with Carson VanGunther) dies, as do a quartet of minor characters and one of Kirby’s boys, and the most surprising aspect is they’re all completely inglorious deaths.

My second impression — which is to say how I felt after reading it a second time after getting over my initial confusion — was something resembling both appreciation and disappointment. What I get from this first issue is a sense that it’s not your standard “mega-epic crossover”, but instead a stand-alone mini-series that happens to tackle the entirety of the DC Universe’s workings. Morrison has set up a number of threads: a Green Lantern police procedural/murder investigation; a child kidnapping mystery; the curious incident of the past meeting the future; Libra’s organizing of super-criminals; some to-do with the Monitors; and finally some stuff going on with the (New) Gods that’s affecting everything. The problem right now is these are all quite disparate elements — which no doubt will be bridged as the series progresses — but the disjointedness is palpable and disorienting.

The other downside of all these disparate elements is there’s not enough time to embed backstory. It’s a stand-alone mini-series in terms of how it progresses, but not stand-alone where it starts. Not reading Green Lantern? Well, you’re not going to know about the Alpha Lanterns. Didn’t read Countdown? You’re going to be more than puzzled by the Monitors’ society (I know I am). Didn’t catch the last issue of Justice League of America? Me neither, but I think something there led into this. The Death of the New Gods mini-series plays into this as well… I think (dunno, didn’t read it). Too much of Final Crisis is not casual reader friendly which in the short run is to its detriment, and may harm its effectiveness in the long run. As a longtime DC comics fan, though, the various story elements are intriguing, especially since Morrison has yet to establish his focal point. Right now, it’s all mood, a foreboding atmosphere across time and dimension in the DCU. You can feel something big is going to happen and that you want to be there when it does.

The mini-series brings together Morrison and artist J.G. Jones for the first time since their brilliant collaboration on Marvel Boy a decade ago. Jones has been working primarily as a cover artist in the intervening years and his opening five pages show off his pin-up ability with two splash pages and a two-page spread among them. It opens the book cinematically but also quickens the pace unintentionally, and a proper pacing is something the book never settles into. Jones is an impressive artist, and the book looks damn fine, with exceptional detailing, inking and colors, but there are some narrative glitches and obtuse panel placements that hinder the clarity of storytelling. The cutaway to a scene mid-conversation between Dr. Light and Mirror Master is quite jarring (the whole scene, actually, makes no sense, I imagine, unless you’ve read Salvation Run), as is the “murder scene” as shown on Human Flame’s cel-phone (use of a cellular-screen-shaped panel should have been called for here, as I didn’t realize at first this is what was happening).

Final Crisis has all the Morrison-esque staples: dense structure; layered stories; a grand scope; oblique themes; and a lot of confusion. The Scottish maestro always has a plan, but it’s anybody’s guess how clear the story will be by its completion. The ingredients, at least, are there for an engrossing ride. If you’re not already invested in the DCU, I don’t suppose this will ease you in any, but as a fan, yeah, I’m still feeling the excitement… afterall, it’s not that often that I re-read any comic three times over in one day to pick it apart for meaning and understanding (I guess the question is should I have to?)

 
TWO AND A HALF OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Serenity: Better Days #3 (Dark Horse)
by Adam Prosser

Ah, the noble spinoff. To what depths you have sunk. Well, OK, maybe not depths exactly, but there was a time when comics spinoffs were often the equal, and occasionally the better, of the movies, TV shows and cartoons that inspired them. Tarzan’s adventures in the comics remain a high watermark for newspaper strips. Part of the reason for the Universal movie monster lineup’s continuing endurance is their appearance in the comics, with Marvel’s Tomb of Dracula a particular highlight. And Donald Duck wouldn’t be much more than a corporate icon if it hadn’t been for Carl Barks’ amazing adventure comics featuring (and in several cases, introducing) the Duck family members. Then there’s the sometimes bizarre Star Wars comics of the late 70s, the well-done Aliens and Predator comics upon which Dark Horse built their brand name…the point is that for most of the time that comics have been adapting properties, they’ve done it with a free hand that has usually made for better stories.

Somehow, like so many things about comics past vs. present, this is no longer strictly the case. It could be the focus on continuity, or simply the protective nature of comics fans, but a modern comic spinoff is usually expected to adhere faithfully to the source material. Long gone are the days when the radio version of the Shadow could have a completely different secret identity from the comic book version, for example. And the usual result is that the comic spinoff ends up being considered an inferior, irrelevant appendage to the main story, an attitude that often ends up being self-fulfilling.

But not always. Nerdmeister Joss Whedon, an obvious comics geek, has managed transfer his TV creations to the comics page with a relatively high standard of quality and a sense of relevance. That’s partly because Whedon himself is writing a lot of them, and partly because none of the shows are currently on the air, yet have an obsessive fanbase demanding more. But at their best, the various Whedon properties are handled by people who wrote for the characters on the small screen, but who also have an understanding of the comics medium, which makes a big difference.

So it’s been with the latest three-part miniseries based on Firefly, or as the franchise seems to be known these days, Serenity. Honestly, the fact that Buffy and Angel have ongoing series and Serenity doesn’t has always been a shock to me, given that those other two shows each wrapped up relatively satisfactorily, whereas Firefly was a show killed before its time. Even stranger, the first Serenity comics mini, Those Left Behind, was pretty lackluster, almost seeming like a mash-up of formula elements from the show. Fortunately, Better Days has been a substantial improvement, with a plot that actually takes the characters somewhere fresh and interesting. In this case: on vacation.

In the first part of this miniseries (set some unspecified time during the run of the show), Mal Reynolds and crew uncharacteristically managed to score a substantial payday, and have been luxuriating in their newfound riches on the resort planet of Pelorum, not realizing they’re being targeted for revenge by their latest mark. Furthermore, one of Inara’s recent clients has twigged to Mal’s history as a rebel and believes that he’s a former Dust Devil, one of a band of freedom fighters—or terrorists, depending which side you’re on—that continued to harass the Alliance long after the war ended. In this latest issue, the various factions zero in on the crew of Serenity and the result involves explosions and robots. Whoot.
The story, by Whedon and Brett Matthews, who also wrote the previous miniseries, is solid—it’s essentially a lost episode of the show, which, if you’re a Browncoat, will make it more than worth the money. I am, so it was. That said, there are a few problems with Will Conrad’s art, which captures the likenesses of the show’s stars, but sometimes at the expense of a slightly stiff and photoreferenced style—though I suppose it’s still a huge improvement when you look back at the history of comics adapted from live action movies and TV.

The real pain, of course, comes from knowing that Serenity still hasn’t gotten the kind of cleverly-constructed long-form story arc that Whedon pulled off on TV, despite the opportunity granted by this comic. With Whedon busy with a bunch of other projects, including a new TV show, it looks like Serenity is doomed to remain an orphan for a while to come. But even a few drops of water go down well when you’re parched. The spinoff is the show, period.

THREE AND A HALF OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Man With No Name: The Good, The Bad and The Uglier #1 (Dynamite)
by Sean Fahey

I’ll be honest, this was one of the LAST properties I ever imagined someone wanting to spin into a comic book series. It’s an impossible task. I say that not so much because of the iconic status of Sergio Leone’s “Man With No Name” trilogy, upon which this based (I mean, hell, comic books deal with iconic figures all the time). I say it’s an impossible task because there’s something inherently cinematic about Spaghetti Westerns - the convergence of so many elements, the music, the pacing and editing, the cinematography. It just can’t be duplicated in another medium, and, in all fairness, I don’t think Dynamite is trying to duplicate Leone’s Spaghetti Westerns with this book.

So, what the hell ARE they trying to do?

As the title suggests, this all about a character. The Man With No Name. Blondie. THE quintessential Western drifter. The iconic figure so masterfully portrayed by Clint Eastwood. After the success of The Lone Ranger, Dynamite went and got themselves another popular Western character to base a comic series on. The question is though, can THIS character be separated from the source material to which he’s so intrinsically linked? And that question is not answered in this issue.

In so many ways this issue is a gigantic question mark. Why does the character look nothing like Eastwood? A legal issue with respect to likeness? A conscious attempt to distance themselves from the movies (and if that’s the case, why secure the property in the first place?)? More importantly, how do you do an ongoing series about a character who’s appeal is based largely on the fact that he’s completely mystery, and is meant to STAY a mystery? Questions.

That said, I think the narrative for this opening story-arc has potential. That could be due the fact that I’m a geek for American Civil War history, especially as it relates to the Southwest (talk about a bizarre niche!). But I was excited to see that this story picks up on one of the more interesting moments from “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” and finds Blondie on the run from both Union and Confederate soldiers for his involvement at the Battle of Glorieta Pass. That’s rich territory for series writer Christos Gage to mine, regardless of who the protagonist is.
There’s potential here, no doubt. But unlike Dynamite’s other Western series - The Lone Ranger and Zorro (western-esque) - both of which grabbed me instantly as “winners,” it’s going to take more than one issue for me to declare this series a success, especially when that one issue reads more like a preview than a full length twenty-two page comic.

TWO AND A HALF OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull #1 (of 2) (Dark Horse)
by Jeb D

I would disagree with those that call the latest Indiana Jones film unwatchable. It’s true that it’s visually uninspired, and that the script is an appallingly lazy piece of hackwork, but for most of the film, Harrison Ford does his best to rekindle our affection for Indy, and with the aid of Shia LaBeouf and Karen Allen, bring some life to the otherwise dire proceedings.

Sadly, of course, the qualities of personality and life that those actors bring to the film aren’t available to the comics writer. All he has to work with is David Koepp’s script, and I hope it’s true that Koepp cobbled the thing together from other writer’s drafts in a desperate race to beat the writers’ strike deadline, because at least that would offer some excuse for its being so terrible. None of that, though, helps comic writer John Jackson Miller, since he’s stuck with that script as his starting point. And, unlike some previous film adaptations, where the use of an early draft resulted in a different and interesting take on the material, this is a painful scene-by-scene slog through the finished version of the film.

And where the first part of the movie (which is basically what this first issue covers) is occasionally livened up by some decent-to-adequate action scenes, the pacing of the comic relegates them to a panel or two here and there. Which, really, is crazy: the only virtue in adapting this thing (well, the only artistic one, anyway) would be to try and bring some level of kinetic detail and excitement to those scenes. Instead, they’re given equal weight with pointless standoffs and dreary exposition, and fall completely flat. And speaking of flat, the omniscient narration draws bullet points and exclamation marks around the few bits of story that, in the film, are allowed to unfold gradually for the audience, thus making each turn of the page more deadeningly dull than the last.

Given that he’s not called on to do much action, artist Luke Ross is left trying to approximate the bland look of the film, and of the actors… and therein lies another problem. The 64-year-old Harrison Ford can still move like a man twenty years younger, and his facial expressions, carriage, and line readings all combine to make his older Indy nearly as vital as the younger one. On the page, though, the facial lines and white hair, with no animation at all, just lie there looking ancient and ghastly (I positively dread Marion’s appearance next issue). I won’t say that Ross had much of a script to work with, but apart from one or two splash panels, there’s nothing in the visuals here that would make you want to know what the characters were saying if the word balloons weren’t there.

I’m probably being too hard on Miller and Ross. I’m sure it’s a good paycheck, and who wouldn’t want to help contribute, in some way, to the legend of Indiana Jones. It’s not their fault that they were given the worst of the films to adapt, but its eventual inclusion in the Dark Horse version of the Indiana Jones saga will be something less than a high point.

One-half Viking out of 5

Jonah Hex #31 (DC)
by Sean Fahey

Jonah Hex makes me think. No kidding. That’s one of the reasons why I love the book. It actually makes me think, each and every issue, about the concept of justice. I’m a lawyer. I stand in front of judges and tell them why certain people should be put in jail, and why certain acts should be punished. To send a message. To deter criminal activity. Because society demands it. Punishment for punishments sake. Retribution. These principals guide us in how we punish. But when you work in a system that, by and large, only incarcerates and fines criminals, you wonder sometimes whether a result is just. How is it that an 18 year old can spend a couple of years in a maximum security prison for having a few joints on him, when predatory accountants and stock brokers get a few months at a country club for raiding pension funds and cooking their books, destroying the retirements of thousands of people?

I think about these concepts a lot, often frustrated by the lack of creativity in our justice system. So, in a way, Jonah Hex is somewhat cathartic for me. The punishment fits the crime — even if it’s as simple as a bullet to the head. Month after month, one and done tales about western justice…a very unique brand of western justice.

You could argue that it’s simple concept, but series writers Jimmy Palmiotti and Justin Gray manage to keep it engaging with fully realized villains and secondary characters, and brutal, no-holds barred action scenes. The latest issue is no exception, and I was particularly knocked away by a savagely hard-core fight between Hex and a group of Apache, expertly rendered by guest artist Pauolo Siqueira. What’s more, this issue features the worst kind of villain - someone that steals from the downtrodden - so I found the resolution of this issue particularly satisfying.

A very good issue of a great series - DC’s best, actually.

Transformers Movie Sequel: The Reign of Starscream #1 (IDW)
by Max Patterson 

Before we go any further, let’s get a few things straight. Yes, I was a fan of Transformers as a kid and yes, I did have a ton of the toys (My favorite was definitely Dreadwing, a bad-ass stealth bomber who shot missiles, usually at my cat. Now that was a toy!). I also saw the new Michael Bay flick, and while it certainly had its problems, overall I thought it was a fine successor to what was in all honesty a pretty goofy series. I was fine with the new spiky look of the bots, and while the new movie obviously couldn’t hold a candle to the original (You’ve got the touch! You’ve got the pow-er!), it was a decent action flick in its own right. The point I’m trying to make is that when pointing out what an epic failure this comic is, I’m doing so solely on its own merits (or lack thereof).

Of course any reasonable person would realize the chances that this comic was actually going to be good were slim to none; after all, it’s a tie-in targeted at a ravenous fan base that would probably buy a transforming salad shooter if it had an Autobot logo stamped on it. The thing is though, it is possible for creative people to rise above even the hokiest license to deliver something worthwhile, and in some cases, exceptional. Look at the Lego Star Wars games if you don’t believe me. Unfortunately, that creative spark is missing entirely from this title. Lets start with the writing. Wonder twins Chris Mowry and Chris Ryall provide the jibba-jabba for this book, and considering this is the only title I’ve read recently with two writers, I figured it would obviously be twice as good as your average comic. Here’s a riddle for ya; how many Chris’s does it take to competently write a Transformers tie-in book? More than two apparently, as the writing here could charitably be described as workmanlike. It’s not terrible, but it’s incredibly stilted and does nothing to help the reader identify with the characters. Part of the charm of the original series was the unique, over-the-top personality of the robots, something that’s totally lacking here. All the characters blend together into a generic villain mash, and there’s nothing to differentiate one guy from the other. I loved the whining, conniving Starscream of the old cartoon, and while his new incarnation may be more competent, he isn’t half as entertaining.

Alex Milne’s art and Josh Perez’s colors are decent, but again suffer from a bad case of the generic. Part of the problem lies in the design of the bots, as to the untrained eye they all look very similar. In large part that can be blamed on the new look adopted from the movies; what worked on the big-screen doesn’t really translate well to comics. While the old cartoon’s style was much simpler, it made it a a heck of a lot easier to tell who was who. It wasn’t a big deal when these guys were splashed across a movie screen, but trying to cram a bunch of these insanely detailed robots into a single panel results in a lot of samey-ness. There’s also a real problem with portraying emotion, as the lack of human faces on the majority of the robots gives them a uniformly blank look. Again, the movies worked because emotion could be conveyed through movement, but here Milne is forced to rely on the writing to provide most of the emotional impact, a hopeless endeavor.

While neither the art or the writing is very impressive, I’m willing to give the team some credit for making the best of a bad situation. For some reason I can’t fathom, IDW decided to use this issue as a set-up for the entire series, and as a result we get both the lead-up to the movie as well as the movie itself, all condensed into a single issue. It’s nuts, and results in a bunch of disjointed scenes with zero cohesion or flow. I think it’s safe to say anyone buying this comic is going to have seen the flick, so this whole issue feels like a waste of everyone’s time. I’d say its unfair to even review the comic if this was some free giveaway for the actual series, but since IDW chose to slap a price on this bad-boy, it’s fair game. It’s a shame, because given the right team (and some room to work), this could have been an entertaining series. As is though, this is simply licensed garbage, and easily filed under fanboys only.

TWO OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

The Facts in The Case of the Departure of Miss Finch (Graphic Novel) (Dark Horse)
by Jeb D.

The Facts in The Case of the Departure of Miss Finch is the latest repurposing of an old Neil Gaiman story into a new graphic novel, in this case the original is a short story from his Fragile Things collection. The new script is an adaptation by letterer Todd Klein (that’s one way for letterers to get more of the credit they deserve!), with painted art by Michael Zulli (once one of Gaiman’s Sandman collaborators).

The story’s classic Gaiman: young moderns in London and their encounter with the spiritual realm that underlies the world they think they know.

Like much of Sandman, the story is not so much about questions and answers, as it is impressions, feelings, color. In its original story form, it has the matter-of-fact disquiet of one of Poe’s less sanguinary efforts (William Wilson, say); brought to life in Zulli’s lush paints, it loses some of its sense of mystery, but it makes up for that by presenting its ambiguous ending entirely straight-faced: Zulli’s work is most impressive in giving flesh and life to a concept that, once visualized, could easily have been bland or just too on-the-nose.

I won’t go into too much story detail, so as not to spoil the fairly slight plot: our unnamed narrator is a blocked American writer, in London to get away and restore his muse. He’s contacted by a pair of old friends who desperately need him to complete a reluctant foursome: he’s to be a sort of blind date to one of their acquaintances, the evidently unwelcome “Miss Finch.” Naturally he agrees, and when we finally do meet Miss Finch, she’s certainly difficult and abrasive. But as the evening progresses from cab ride to sushi restaurant to a visit to a most unusual and mysterious “circus,” Miss Finch begins to interest, then perhaps nearly charm, our narrator. And that’s when…

Well, as I say, I’ll let you read it for yourself. Even if you already know the original story, Zulli’s painting, which veers from the mundane to the macabre to the sublime and back again, will delight you. And while I’d always relish new original comics work from Gaiman, it’s hard to complain about an adaptation as well-crafted as this one.

FOUR OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Tor #1 (of 6) (DC)
by Sean Fahey

Come on. A lone caveman warrior. Dinosaurs and bizarre mutant creatures. All courtesy of the legendary Joe Kubert. If this type of pulp fantasy doesn’t get you excited, check your pulse. I mean, this is a self-declared “Prehistoric Odyssey.” Self-declared!

It takes an odd combination of cojones and camp factor to call your book a “Prehistoric Odyssey,” to have those words etched in a large rock next to the titular character as he walks by. It grabbed me. It grabbed me in a way that said - this is all you need to know about this book, and you’re either going to love it or hate it.

Well, needless to say, I loved it. I love that DC put this book out, on the same day they put out The War That Time Forgot no less. In a small way it shows a growing commitment to something other than superheroes. That’s not a slam on capes. That’s just a comment that there is a whole lot of room, and a very large appetite, for diversity in this medium.

There’s room for a prehistoric odyssey.

Kubert is really on his game here. The layouts. The pacing. The composition. The expressions captured in the titular character’s face. In fact, Kubert is so on his game visually here that I actually think the book would be more compelling without the narrative. Just the pictures. The images in this book are so visceral and compelling that they transcend the language.

A prehistoric warrior on his own. A man of action. His journey - both physical and spiritual - through a bizarre lands. His odyssey. We need more comics like this.

FOUR AND A HALF OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Tarot: Witch of the Black Rose #50 (Broadsword Comics)
by Max Patterson

(WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! The following review contains descriptions of adult situations and themes which may not be appropriate for younger readers, elderly readers, discriminating male or female readers, conservatives, religious fanatics or the Amish. Also, I had to think of like 1,000 different euphemisms for boobs, so if that offends you, well, too bad. Oh, and I better not catch anyone reading this with one hand!)
 
Brought to you by Jim Balent’s Broadsword Comics, Jim Balent’s Tarot: Witch of the Black Rose – A Jim Balent Production, is the story of a woman scorned by the outside world, misunderstood because of her magical talents and unique appearance, forced to contend with the reputation cast upon her by an overzealous sibling, all the while struggling to deal with the machinations of a maniacal despot bent on ruling the enchanted land with an iron fist. Oh wait, that’s the plot from the popular book Wicked. Tarot is the story of a chick with huge ta-ta’s, who divides her time equally between being naked and being the world’s most ineffective super-hero. Look, I should probably point out that as a rule, I’m generally a fan of the kind of exploitative, low-brow schlock that Tarot tries to be. I read Heavy Metal Magazine, I’ve read all the Conan books, and I still have a huge crush on Julie Strain, Queen of the B-Movie. Sure it’s juvenile and often clichéd, but the truth is that sometimes it’s OK for escapist entertainment to aim for the lowest common denominator. Call me a chauvinistic bastard (whoops, too late), but sometimes I enjoy watching attractive women fighting monsters in skimpy clothing. Alright? I said it. And before I get any nasty e-mails from you ladies out there, just beware the pendulum swings both ways. I’ve read a Harlequin novel or two in my time (purely for research purposes), so I’m well aware that ogling the opposite sex is not a past-time reserved solely for men. We just don’t need a lot of fancy words. The thing is though, as trashy as that type of entertainment is, there’s certain redeeming values that make them appealing. Sometimes its great art, or a sense of humor; other times it’s a wacky aesthetic, or an interesting female lead. Tarot has none of these qualities, with a combination of horrifying artwork and bland writing which ensures that any fun to be had is of the unintentional variety.

Here’s an untouched excerpt from the book’s opening, a direct address to the reader from our buxom heroine: “Sex is not taboo to me. It is sacred, as well as pleasurable, whether by my own hands or those of others.” Wow, kind of takes the mystery out of the whole thing, huh? The problem isn’t the idea of a sexual liberated character; it’s that everything in this book from dialog to backstory is presented with all the subtlety of a brick to the face. See, apparently Tarot was given a deck of Tarot cards as a child, cards which now appear before her in times of trouble. Before you ask, yes, the cards feature naked women, which may explain why Tarot appears to be a practicing nudist and nymphomaniac (and why I still dress up as a Transformer before going on dates). Anyway, up pops the justice card, and low and behold, a moral dilemma suddenly reveals itself! What’s more, the card shows up a third time at the end of the story, in case you missed out on the underlying message here. It’s stupid, and what’s worse, it’s just one in a litany of stupid plot points littered throughout this comic. Take for instance the moral dilemma itself; a human family is being kidnapped by a representative of the fairy world, tasked with maintaining magical balance blah, blah, blah. Anyway, apparently the family’s deviant son has been snuffing fairies, and now it’s time to pay up. The parents refuse, claiming the killing was accidental, because apparently the kid thought they were butterflies. Bear in mind, this kid looks at least 14, so that’s a shaky story at best. What seals the deal though is when the kid actually hands over the glass jar with the fairy in it. Anyone see where this is going? That’s right, there’s a dead topless (though oddly, not pantless) blue woman, complete with wings, lying asphyxiated at the bottom of the jar. Let’s see if we can spot the ways that our junior entomologist could have told the difference:

1.The fairy has human legs, arms, hair and facial features, things noticeably missing from most butterflies
2.The fairy has tits, again something not possessed by your average butterfly (I think)
3.The fairy is wearing pants, and it’s a well-known fact that butterflies only wear kilts
4.The fairy is approximately 4-6 inches tall, and any butterfly that big is an affront to nature and decency

If that wasn’t enough to fry the little bastard, he’s also got three more of the things pinned to a frame, again all clearly not butterflies, and also clearly topless, which is really classy considering two of them are 95% skeleton (seriously Balent, wtf?). The whole thing’s dumb as hell, and if Balent’s trying to present a complex moral dilemma, it’s not working. It’s twisted, depressing and generally unappealing, and considering the most rational and intelligent character is ostensibly the antagonist, you have to wonder just what Balent’s goal is. It’s a little tough to address serious themes when your main character is walking around in a see-thru battle thong. There’s not even any action, as the sole fight scene is one panel of Tarot getting stabbed in the leg. The rest is talking and nudity, and considering how inept Balent is at both, it makes for a dreary read. When the main character starts talking about her sister’s teenage struggle with over-sized jumblies, you’d like to think he’s being factitious, but Balent plays the whole thing totally straight. Either he realizes the only people who buy this crap for the story are 15 year old goths, or he’s got his head stuck so far up his ass he can’t hear people telling him what a shitty writer he is. I mean it’s a cheesecake fantasy book for Pete’s sake, a chimp could write it!

To be fair though, Balent is primarily known as an artist, so at least the book scores some points there right? HAHAHAHAHAHA, no. When it comes to bad art, Rob Liefeld is usually held up as the shining pinnacle of imperfection, each drawing he produces a veritable laundry list of how not to draw human anatomy. Yet while Balent is clearly the superior artist, in many ways his work is far more unappealing than Liefeld’s mangled scribblings. How so you ask? Well, while Liefeld’s art may make a mockery of human anatomy, for the most part be viewed without a palatable sense of unease and revulsion. Not so with Balent’s work; every (and I mean every) human character is a terrifying abomination. The problem lies in the fact that Balent is able to draw people that are just realistic enough to avoid being cartoon, but not so realistic as to look, well, good. The end results are creatures that combine the features and anatomy of Real Dolls with the smooth, airbrushed look of a flesh colored marshmallow. The dumbass family are the worst offenders, a fact made all the more unsettling when it’s revealed they’re based on actual people (who I can only pray didn’t know what they were posing for when they agreed to this). Anyone who considers this arousing either has the world’s most active libido, or is blind. It’s like Balent has never actually seen a woman, and is drawing them based solely on description alone (“They’re uh, round and, uh kind of smooth. With big jugs.”). Yet as easy as it is to get lost in the larger horrifying picture, I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out the other special techniques Balent uses to make the art just that much worse. The women all walk on their toes (as if wearing invisible heels), joints bend at odd angles and yes, the classic broken spine technique is back in all it’s glory, all of which is obviously intended to keep the character’s assets and asses in view at all time. What’s really said though is that both Balent and wife/colorist Holly Golightly (who also poses nude dressed as Tarot, in case you’re interested), clearly have the ability to draw competently. Thornwic, the fairy lord, is actually quite well done, with actually shading and textures that make him look more like an actual character and less like a blow-up doll (although it’s hilarious that while Tarot prances around in her underwear, Thornwic wears enough clothes for three people). Sure Thornwic’s not perfect (with the exception of his rockin’ codpiece), but if the rest of the comic were drawn with a similar level of detail I might at least be able to call it decent. As it stands though, you’re best bet is to just close your eyes and try and gouge out your brain.

Look, I obviously never expected much from Tarot, but I at least thought there might be potential for some campy humor, or half-decent honkers. Instead what I got was a comic so devoid of appeal, it’s not even worth flipping through as a joke. This IS the bottom of the barrel, and while I’m sure this comic is going to go on and sell a bazillion copies, I’m begging you fellow nerds; don’t buy this crap. Go pick up Heavy Metal, or rent Barbarella or hell, even watch some Xena if you have to. Unfortunately the technology does not yet exist that would allow me to travel back in time and save my past self the agony of reading this garbage, but for you, it’s not too late.

One-half out of 5 Vikings.
(But only because it didn’t give me a paper cut while I was reading it)