Category: Reviews

Story by Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning
Art by Javier Pina & Ramon Bachs

Stan Lee’s Soldier Zero tells the story of Stewart Trautmann, a formerly diabled veteran of the war in Afghanistan who has become bonded to a sentient alien battle-suit after an incident in Los Alamos, New Mexico. Unfortunately, that’s the same story we are told for the entirety of this latest issue, via a stilted and awkward conversation between Stewart and his travelling companion Kaylee Sakai.

After the previous conflict – a span of only a few days told over the first 8 issues – it is clear that issue 9 is meant to be a jumping-off point for new readers. As the start of a new arc, however, the issue is entirely exposition as we follow Stewart and Kaylee’s wanderings in the Washington state backwoods. There’s not much in the way of story advancement here, save for a brief (and somewhat confusing) interlude to an interrogation, and the book’s ending feels like it came about four pages too soon.

Javier Pina’s art is solid as always, but he’s given very little to work with here. One very cleverly drawn scene of Stewart almost mistakenly entering a handicapped restroom would have been interesting if left to convey the message by itself, but the writers found it necessary to insert an explanatory text bubble, as they don’t trust the reader to understand the art.

Soldier Zero has been a decent entry in the Boom Studios Stan Lee universe up until this point, but this issue fails on almost every level. As an issue of an ongoing series it will annoy regular followers, and as a starting point for new readers it’s just plain boring, and doesn’t offer a representative look at the overall story.

Story by Chuck Dixon
Art by Robert Atkins

As a child of the 80’s, I grew up on a steady diet of Robotech, Transformers, and G.I. Joe, with my introduction to comics coming from the latter two. G.I. Joe has always had a solid stable of likeable characters, but no one character ever embodied everything a kid wanted to be like Snake Eyes.

The second issue of Snake Eyes is another solid entry in IDW’s stable of G.I. Joe comics. The issue flips back and forth between Snake and crew infiltrating (read: “invading”) Khalikhan’s mountain stronghold and flashbacks of a naturally one-sided “conversation” between Snake and Scarlett. The scenes in Khalikhan’s palace carry a sufficient level of badassery to live up to Snake’s character, and the flashback scenes offer a touching glimpse into his relationships with some of his teammates, lending a little more depth to the wordless killing machine.

For all of the love and nostalgia I have for Snake Eyes, I was initially skeptical that Chuck Dixon could pull off a book centered around a character that doesn’t speak. He handles the situation eloquently, though, by injecting (mostly) realistic dialogue between the supporting characters to fill the spaces and keep things moving. I never felt the book was bogged down by excessive dialogue or depictions of Snake trying to get his point across non-verbally.

Robert Atkins’ art is adequate, but takes a severe dip in quality in the last few pages of the book. This is easy to disguise in an action sequence, but it is most noticeable on one of the last – and most important – flashback scenes with Scarlett, and has the unfortunate effect of degrading the scene’s impact.

Overall, a good Joe book and a must-have for anyone who grew up as enamored with Snake Eyes as I was… Am.

Story by Victor Kalvachev, Kosta Yanev & Andrew Osborne
Art by Victor Kalvachev, Toby Cypress, Nathan Fox & Robert Valley

Blue Estate #3 once again picks up right where the previous issue left off, with the detention of two college football players who got indecent with Cherry Popz at the Smokin’ Barrel strip club. That particular thread plays out fairly quickly, though, and the rest of the issue focuses on a meeting between drug dealer Alyosha the Lion and Tony Luciano, who we saw trying to unload a house in issue #2.

The strength of Osborne’s script is entirely in his dialogue. He is able to breath life into the voices of his characters in much the same way as Brian Azzarello did in 100 Bullets, which makes for intriguing reading. The weakness of the script is that it lacks direction, and it’s hard to figure out where the scenes depicted in the last two books are leading. Osborne, Kalvachev, and Yanev have yet to depict any end goal for any of the characters so we, the readers, have very little to grasp while we’re pulled into their lightly intertwining lives.

The artwork varies quite a bit between the books four artists, but Kalvachev (pulling the duty of Art Director) infuses the book with an overarching style that allows the different art styles to remain mostly cohesive in spite of seemingly random change-points. The mixture of art styles might not be for everyone, but it mixes well with the book’s crime-drama underpinnings.

Unfortunately, expertly-crafted dialogue is not enough to maintain interest in a story that feels ultimately without purpose. All of the ingredients for an intriguing story have been tossed into the pot, but no one’s turning on the heat just yet.

Story by Owen Wiseman
Art by Nam Kim

Set in 17th century Japan, Samurai’s Blood tells the story of three teenagers torn from their lives by the treachery of the Tokugawa clan. After the daimyo Sanjo Ujimori is betrayed and assassinated by members of his court, the betrayers set out to wipe all those loyal to the Sanjo clan from existence.

I’m a sucker for medieval samurai tales. One of my favorite books – before the unfortunate demise of CrossGen – was Ron Marz and Bart Sears’ The Path. Regal and honor-bound samurai warriors on a quest to right wrongs amongst a sea of treachery is a story told countless times, and one that I would follow to my grave. Although there is nothing extraordinary or ground-breaking here, Samurai’s Blood #1 is a well-executed start to a potentially engrossing saga.

Despite the somewhat derivative nature of the storyline, Wiseman crafts an adventure populated by intriguing protagonists full of charm and depth, even though their enemies are stereotypically one-dimensional. Perhaps the shallow nature of the book’s villains is a benefit, though, allowing the reader to see them merely as an opposing force – an obstacle for our heroes – and to focus on the relationship that will inevitably form between these three teenagers.

I have no complaints about Nam Kim’s art. His style lends itself well to the script, and although there’s nothing extraordinary about his pages, his work is solid and moves the story along at a nice pace. I found myself drawn to his beautiful depictions of the landscapes surrounding the characters, though, which turned out to be oddly distracting.

I’ll be picking up the 6-issue run of Samurai’s Blood, and if you’re as big a fan of samurai adventure tales as me, I’d suggest you do the same. Even if you’re not, you can’t really go wrong with this book’s $1 cover price.

Story by Kurtis Wiebe
Art by Riley Rossmo

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t get Green Wake. From the very start I’ve been confused by Wiebe’s noir(ish) murder mystery, because he layers his world with so much pretentious existentialism that I have trouble understanding what, exactly, I’m supposed to care about. The latest issue doesn’t help matters, opening up more threads than it closes and not really hinting toward a real resolution.

We are given several insights into detective Morley’s life before, both via flashbacks and an impenetrable conversation with a priest named Ishum, and we follow murder-suspect Ariel as she flees from Morley’s pursuit and into the presence of a town prophet who claims to have the key to escaping Green Wake. Woven into these plotlines is some sort of wraith creature whose appearance we are told “will not make sense”, random appearances by other half-human creatures, and a vision of some behemoth corpse-toad.

It doesn’t help that I’m not nearly as enamored with Riley Rossmo’s art as others seem to be. While his sketchy style may be a perfect compliment to Wiebe’s haphazard scripting, I’m left feeling only that there could be some beautiful art buried beneath all those needless scribbles. His tendency to add impact with shocks of color might work for some, but here it feels as though it’s being used to distract the reader from otherwise muddled artwork.

And after all of that, I’m still not sure of the point of it all. I feel like there are interesting nuggets to be sifted from Green Wake, but Wiebe has neither given me the tools to do so, nor the hooks to make me want to.

Story by Arvid Nelson
Art by Lui Antonio

Having been separated from Deja and Sola as they escaped from the green Martian caravan, John Carter awakes before a great desert complex on the brink of death.

This is only the beginning of an issue that spans a significant amount of story in a very short space. The minor plot points contained within could have been expanded into a multi-issue arc, but each beat is instead compressed into a few pages before moving on to the next. Arvid Nelson handles the transitions gracefully, though, and the issue flows well without getting too choppy.

It does, however, have a slight “get from point A to point B” feel to it, with some moments feeling rather forced. The conversation with the Jeddak’s butler at the end of the issue felt somewhat rapid-fire, but the final page brings the necessity of that rush into focus. Overall I enjoyed the journey, but at times I wished I could have spent more time with some of the characters and locales.

Antonio’s art went a long way toward adding to that feeling. Between his characters and layouts and Adriano Lucas’s vibrant colors, the artwork does a fine job of drawing you into Edgar Rice Burroughs’s Mars-scape and making you wish to linger just a little bit longer. If I have one complaint about the art it’s that the colors, while lush, were a little inconsistent, especially when portraying John Carter’s altered skin color.

Warlord of Mars #7 is a bridge issue, portraying many of John Carter’s travails en route to returning to Deja Thoris. While not as focused as I would have liked, the issue is fast and smoothly paced. I’m enjoying this adaptation of ERB’s original story so far – Warlord of Mars is worth a look.

Story by Joe R. Lansdale
Art by Sam Keith

I’m not sure where to begin with 30 Days of Night: Night, Again, so I’ll start by saying that I wasn’t as enamored with Steve Niles & Ben Templesmith’s original work as many others were. I found the concept interesting but poorly executed, and it never really caught my interest.

Night, Again takes “poorly executed” to a whole new level. Joe Lansdale’s script is as vapid as it is pointless, devoid of any redeeming qualities that would make reading the book even mildly interesting. Characters’ actions make little sense, and there isn’t a likable or identifiable personality among them. Between the one-dimensional crew of Barrow survivors and a group of the dumbest “scientists” ever depicted in fiction, I was never able to identify a protagonist in the story. It’s almost as if Lansdale wants me to root for the entire cast’s destruction.

Unfortunately, even the brand’s trademark vampires are poorly represented here, making it impossible even to support them in that respect. They are merely tools for senseless gore, and their pursuit of the main characters is such a crudely constructed plot hook that you just want it to be over. Simultaneously, a second plotline involving a group of climate change researchers (aided by plenty of the writer’s hammer of a political agenda) is so asinine that I was left gaping like an imbecile at the end of the book.

Sam Keith’s artwork brings nothing but disappointment, especially for anyone who remembers his glory days on The Maxx and Wolverine. His work on this book is so lazy as to almost be insulting that IDW would even consider it finished.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t find a single redeeming quality in Night, Again.

Story by Mike Mignola & Scott Allie
Art by Karl Moline

The Dead Remembered, a tale of B.P.R.D.’s history set in the early ‘70s and featuring an origin story of sorts for everyone’s favorite pyrokinetic Liz Sherman, concludes with Liz and her new friend Teddy venturing into the haunted woods to pursue the ghost that Professor Broom is attempting to exorcise from the house of his friend Father Vafides.

From issue 1, The Dead Remembered’s tale of the spirit of a woman persecuted in the Salem Witch Trials has taken a back seat to a story of Liz’s history and character. In issue 3, however, Liz’s presence feels more like the catalyst for the ghost storyline’s resolution, and little time is spent on her as a character of any depth. She’s represented more as a spoiled and petulant teenager than a tortured one, and there’s very little growth to be found.

The negative impact of shifting the focus of the arc back to the ghost story is compounded by the fact that its conclusion is mostly unsatisfying. One of the book’s key action beats happens off screen and the book’s “twist” – while not entirely predictable – just felt… unimportant. There’s no real impact to its revelation, and it draws attention away from what should be the book’s core.

There’s virtually no character development present in this book. That’s forgivable for the side characters (even Professor Broom), but for Liz it’s disappointing, especially since the arc is supposed to be about her. I was hoping that this story would conclude with a deeper look into the events that shaped the Liz we know today, but somewhere near the beginning of this issue her story faltered and never recovered.

In the end, issue #3 rounds out The Dead Remembered as a rather inconsequential B.P.R.D. ghost story. It fills some time, but never really fills in any gaps.

Story by Doug Murray & Frank Cho
Art by Alex Medellin

In the not-too-distant future, Earth’s resources are tapped by inevitable overpopulation. Humanity looks to the stars for its salvation, developing a faster-than-light “wormhole drive” that will allow expeditions to travel the necessary distances. Unfortunately, entering a wormhole kills anyone with a y-chromosome, leading to the recruitment of 50 women from around the globe whose genes contain only x-chromosomes.

If the premise sounds a bit absurd, that’s because it is. Co-created by Frank Cho, it’s no real surprise that the backbone of the book is a story based around an entirely female cast. It works relatively well, though, and introduces some interesting dynamics that will hopefully develop over time without leaning too far into overt eroticism.

The story in this first issue feels a little choppy, especially in the first few pages. An attempt is made to start the book on an action beat then rewind slightly, but the rewind isn’t represented well and comes across very confusing. Had the first two pages of the book simply been moved into chronological order, I think the scene represented there would have had just as much – if not more – impact.

Alex Medellin’s artwork is really where this book shines. Infused with a 50’s sci-fi vibe but written with modern sensibilities (ala Fear Agent), the book’s visuals are intriguing and fun. The most successful thing about Medellin’s artwork here is that even though all of the women in the book are stereotypically gorgeous, they are each unique and easy to differentiate from one another. I never found myself wondering which girl I was looking at – a frequent occurrence in other female-centric books like Y: The Last Man.

Overall, 50 Girls 50 is an interesting premise that makes for an enjoyable sci-fi excursion. If future issues and arcs can focus on the unique nature of the all-female cast, this could be a solid entry in the Image lineup.

Story by Joe Brusha, Linda Ly, & Raven Gregory
Art by Judit Tondora & Antonio Bifulco

Zenoscope’s newest book under the Grimm Fairy Tales brand takes a dark, high-fantasy look at the characters from Peter Pan, beginning with everyone’s favorite fairy, Tinkerbelle. Her story is one of betrayal, framed for the murder of the fairy realm’s princess and facing judgment from the queen.

Throughout the story the writing is amateurish, full of one-dimensional characters and a blundering, shallow plot that never finds a real resolution. Belle spends the entire book bemoaning her circumstances as she is bluntly manipulated by a group of fellow fairies, whose motives are never explained or even hinted at. All I was able to glean from this story is that a group of petty fairies decide that ignorance and affluence are reason enough for blackmail and murder.

A perfect complement to the insipid scripting is the artwork, provided by two artists so wildly different in style that their partnership on this book is somewhat senseless. Judit Tondora’s painted artwork is passable if a bit immature, reminiscent of early ‘90’s Magic: The Gathering artwork. Antonio Bifulco’s art, on the other hand, is unforgivably sketchy, at times so much as to look incomplete. Many of his pages look as though they simply included his roughs as finished artwork.

As a package, Tales From Neverland is simply awful. The book reads like vaguely erotic fan-fiction, aided by blatantly eroticized cover artwork and ridiculous character designs (is every fairy a cosplaying pornstar?). If you’re desperately itching for good alternate Neverland stories, go re-watch Hook.