Dark History: Justice League Dark #3 Review

EDITOR’S NOTE: On initial publication of this review, I missed Ryan Sook’s cover credit and attributed the cover work to interior artist Mikel Janin. Mikel was good enough to check into the comments and point out my error. The review has been updated with more accurate credits.

I am probably not the best person to objectively review this book, for a few reasons, even though I studied journalism in college. But I figure once you’ve publshed a review that contains the sentence, “This ending is so Goddamned shameful I can barely even find the fucking words,” I can pretty much chuck any pretense of journalistic objectivity out the window, at least when it comes to the Comic Book Reviews category.

With that said, let’s talk about Justice League Dark #3: I liked this book… and I shouldn’t have, by every standard I’ve set for comics in every review I have written to date.

It’s decompressed. It contains almost no action. It barely explains what happened before, assumes the reader has knowledge of comics that were canceled fifteen years ago and were long out of print, and has a cover that writes checks the comic itself doesn’t cash. I mean, at no time in this book does Zatanna ride a Batcycle, and if you’re gonna bait and switch me like that, the least artist Mikel Janin Ryan Sook could have done was put her in her fishnets for a little free-of-charge fanboy boner (Fanboy-ner? Hey, no Google results! Fanboy-ner! Trademark /copyright 2011 Crisis On Infinite Midlives!). And John Constantine does not shoot fire from his hands, Mikel Ryan. The only way his hand should look like that would immediately after fingerblasting Veneria, the Harpy Queen of Tertiary Chlamydia.

So I shouldn’t like this book. But it has four things going for it: Shade, The, Changing and Man.

Will It Be Like Chocolate Meeting Peanut Butter? – Anthony Bourdain’s “Get Jiro!”

I was always one of those people who, in high school, kept very separate groups of friends. I had one group for theater geek activities, one group for all things jock related, and another one for the things that neither of the either groups needed to see. It was a very well planned orchestration that I kept meticulously cordoned off, like one of those plates that lets you keep all your food from touching lest the squash touch the potatoes and all mayhem break loose.

These days, I feel much the same about my hobbies. Comics, Club-A-Wino-To-Death Night, and foodie pursuits all hold very meaningful places in my life, but they’ve been there as spaces for me to move in and out of. My fenced off little refuges have not come into contact with each other…until now.

Enter Get Jiro!, which will be written by television personality/chef/author, Anthony Bourdain and author Joel Rose with art by Langdon Foss, whose work has previously been seen in Heavy Metal.

Should I be getting excited or scurry back into the shadows in trepidation?

Mork Calling Orson: Spaceman #1 Review

EDITOR’S NOTE: Ground Control to Major Tom: commencing countdown, spoilers on. 

Here’s the thing about Brian Azzarello, which you already know if you’ve read 100 Bullets: he writes a great crime story. I think that’s why, no matter what he’s writing, he winds up shoehorning a crime story in there, the way Robin Williams ramfeeds schtick into every Goddamned role he ever does, or the way low-level Internet writers about comics cram uncomfortable jokes about their balls into their reviews.

And there are times when it’s a welcome addition, like the toy in the bottom of a cereal box – after all, nobody’s gonna bitch about a hard-boiled crime story stuck into in a Batman comic. Others, like when he made John Constantine a gay-trolling ex-convict in Hellblazer, it’s a less joyful little discovery, like scratching your balls and saying, “Huh… what’s that lump?”

It’s too early to tell how the crime story he’s stuck into Spaceman will come across: Cracker Jack prize? Or ball tumor?

“Beast In The Cave” – Not A Euphemism: Review of American Vampire #19

In March 2010, American Vampire debuted through Vertigo. The premise of the book is that in the United States a new breed of vampire has been born, one with that is faster and more powerful than its European counterpart. It’s also impervious to sunlight. USA! USA! USA!

The first five issues of the series drew a fair amount of buzz because in addition to stories written by creator Scott Snyder, there were also stories written by horror master Stephen King.

The initial arc follows the story of the first American vampire, Skinner Sweet, who was a deadly, notorious outlaw well before he was ever infected with vampire blood. It also follows the story of Pearl Jones, a struggling actress in the era of silent film, who Skinner saves from European vampires and turns into his first progeny. Both sets of stories were drawn by Rafael Albuquerque. Albuquerque’s a man who knows his way around an art panel. His stylized use of heavy contrast shading, mixed with pencil sketches, ink washes and more traditional inking, have given the books a look that sets them apart from other horror comics and helped to win the book IGN Best New Series of 2010 and an Eisner Award for Best New Series this year in San Diego.

Sounds good, right? Well, if for some reason you’re not reading this book yet – say you are from Brockton Mars, or have been trapped under something heavy for the past year and a half – Snyder gives you a great place to jump on with issue #19, The Beast In The Cave. Spoilers ahead.

Sometimes You Need Detergent And Elbow Grease; Sometimes You Need An Exorcism – Hellblazer #283

This isn’t a review. This is what happens when I’m left alone in a room with a packet of Sudafed, a bottle of Scotch, and a stack of comics and start to free associate. You’ve been warned.

Menthols? What alternate reality is this?

In addition to John Constantine’s sizable, nay, myriad tragic flaws as a human being, in John Constantine: Hellblazer #283 – “The Devil’s Trench Coat Part 1” we learn that he also doesn’t do laundry. John Constantine would have been that guy who lived on your floor in your college dorm who deposited all his athletic wear on the carpet of the hallway outside his doorway after sports practice and just left it there, stinking up the joint until a squadron of RAs was dispatched to enforce a cease and desist – that is, if Constantine actually went to college. Constantine’s aversion to even hitting his trench coat with the occasional blast of Febreeze is so bad that the coat has, apparently, gained sentience and gone on walk about. Then some hapless chump buys it on Ebay: