1. "Judge Dredd: The Beast In The Bay", writer: Simon Spurrier, artist: Patrick Goddard
Let's put aside the unfortunate truth that the narrator of this six page satire on the West's hypocritical attitude to immigration is sadly something of a derogatory stereotype himself, a cartoon Mexican-esque very-wetback who's too naive and unworldly at the tale's end to realise that he's in a detention centre rather than a kindly hostel. It's a shame it's so, because Mr Spurrier and Mr Goddard are clearly fighting on the side of the angels here, but their humane intent is somewhat blunted in the execution.
That aside, "The Beast In The Bay" is awash with smart ideas and an appropriate measure of political cynicism. In truth, there's probably too much being crammed into a mere 33 panels, which results in neatly-established opportunities for some scornful-minded cruelty being partially squandered. That's particularly true for the scene in which a mutated fish the size of a three-storey building is attacked underwater by all manner of warring Mega City One obsessives while Dredd and his fellow Judges try to keep the beast alive for the purpose of public relations. There's well-armed souvenir hunters, a pro-animal cruelty group, super-obese citizens addicted to sushi, and needing a mountain of it to maintain their own blubber, and Dredd himself, shooting and stabbing at everyone he can in order to protect a big diseased fish that he wanted to do away with in the first place. It's a gag that works well in it's own right, quite seperate from the rest of "The Beast In The Bay", and it neatly underscores one of the major themes of the Judge Dredd stories since the feature's first days, namely that the Judicial state has kept everyone so stupid and passive that their creativity can only express itself in absurd and obsessive behaviour. I'd like to have seen more of that scene, and more made of that point, and less of the conceit of the dense, illegally abroad and wide-eyed narrator whose portrayal jars with the good-hearted intentions of the story as a whole.
2. "Defoe: A Murder Of Angels: Part 10", writer: Pat Mills, artist: Leigf Gallagher
I'll miss "Defoe". I don't know any other strip that stars a lead character who's so politically charged, so fundamentally English in the sense that our history is as much marked by dissidents as courtiers, rebels as men of power, and democrats as aristocrats. "Who cares about the royals' bleeding treasures?" declares Defoe when told the tower containing the crown jewels is under attack by zombies, "There are people in there!" It's not a speech that'll endear him to the blue-bloods around him, but Defoe doesn't care, anymore than he's concerned about spitting contempt at that most dedicated of social climbers, Samuel Pepys. Defoe's on the side of the "common bawds, strumpets, mollies and beggars", and how odd it is, in our times marked by economic dislocation and anxiety that there just aren't more comics books dealing deliberately with the dread business of politics. Where are the right-wing strips, the openly Randian epics, the stories grounded in conciliation or rebellion, the social democratic texts, the anti-Capitalist adventures, the tales that take a stand somewhere on their surface rather than hinting at stances, consciously or not, in the sub-text?
The silence where the politics of the present day might be placed in the comics of 2011 is a disturbing one. It's not that I want polemics, or relevancy, or political correctness. It's simply that reading this week's "Defoe", and indeed the Judge Dredd tale before it, makes it plain that there's so much missing from a great deal of what we're used to consuming.
3. "Sinister Dexter: Are You Being Severed? Part 1", writer: Dan Abnett, artist: Anthony Williams & Rob Taylor
If the previous Sinister Dexter serial seemed to glorify gangsterism while utterly confusing new readers, a confusion of purpose in which not explaining matters clearly left the text as apparently amoral as it was opaque, the first chapter of "Are You Being Severed?" makes a successful start in putting both problems to rest. The tale's prologue clearly establishes the moral tone of the piece; this is a world where terrible things happen to good mannered people, and so the possession of a gun and a habit of pushing people from great heights to their deaths can't in any way be mistaken for a humorous business that's really rather cool. And Mr Abnett's knowing trick of listing the various unsavoury hobbies of each of the story's featured assassins leaves us in no doubt that no-one on show in "Are You Being Severed?" is in any way the tale's protagonist; there are indeed, it seems, no more heroes anymore, and it's good to be shown that.
It remains to be seen whether Mr Abnett and the artistic team of Mr Williams and Mr Taylor can tell us anything of note in "Sinister Dexter" beyond the undeniable fact that guns go bang and that men with those bang-producing machines can be powerful and dangerous creatures. In particular, it'd be fascinating and instructive to see something of how this gangster-state is run. One way to make it explicit that these blokish, wise-cracking killers aren't heroes would be to show the reader more of how their world works for the typical woman and man in and off the street. We'd surely benefit from seeing their routine of suffering, the fear, the casual violence, the capriciousness of a state unbound by law, the mechanics of paying protection and the effect of that on the relations of everyday life. For in truth, "SinisterDexter" needs a great deal more context, even if it's delivered in the broadest and most amusing manner possible.
But then, who's to say that we're not going to see that in the weeks to come?
4. "Slaine: The Exorcist: part 1", writer: Pat Mills, artist: Clint Langley
Oh, dear. I'm afraid that I'm about to show how out of step I am with contemporary taste. Because all I can recall about Clint Langley's painted art is that it was exceptionally green, markedly vague where backgrounds are concerned, and reliant on distracting photographic references. And I can also remember being somewhat baffled by the establishing panel labelled "The City Of Eborakon" which seems to show a big wooden house isolated from the world in a grass-less field.
It's beautiful work, I wouldn't ever deny it, but it's an effort to read, and the information it doesn't convey seems more noteworthy than the technique and surface flash it does.
But sadly Mr Mill's script is no more forthcoming where helping the unfamiliar reader along is concerned. The assumption is that we know who these folks are, and that we're absolutely comfortable with what they're doing and why. Even the introductory blurb on the letters page manages to produce a thoroughly confusing summary of the strip's background and purpose.
In the end, all we're given is what feels to this reader like a showy and shallow six pages in which a beautiful women spits a demon out of her mouth, a Celtic barbarian speaks in stiff platitudes while striking unimpressive manly poses, and an irritating dwarf makes profoundly unamusing jokes.
I know. I am out of step, and these are exceptionally able creators. I suppose one of the things that'll I'll need to pay attention to in the coming weeks is how to engage with a product this distinct from my own taste. I'll be reporting back from the comicbook-reading classroom as my education continues over the coming weeks.
5. "Low Life: Hostile Takeover: part 10", writer: Rob Williams, artist: D'Israeli
When Checkov discussed the famous matter of the gun left in the audience's view in a play's first act, he was adamant that it should be fired by the end of the act that followed. Here, the reappearance of Cross-Dressing Trev, the gender-brutalised killer robot, occurs at the start of what might be labelled act five of "Hostile Takeover", and this reader for one had quite forgot that the big metal lass/lad had been ever been placed in full view at all. And so, the problem with not having seen Trev for so many episodes is that my response was "Oh, look, I'd forgotten Trev existed!", rather than "Hurrah! It's Trev to the rescue!". Croos Dressing Trev was, I suspect, a gun that either needed firing sooner or placing on the shelf later.
But for all of that, Frank's rescue of Dredd is a lovely scene. To see Dirty Frank fighting back succesfully after the previous nine chapters detailing his emasculation had me quietly but emphatically cheering, and his victory cry of "Cross-dressing Trev! He is all woman!" made me realise how fond I've become of the maddest and hairiest of Judges over the past few months.
There should be Dirty Frank action figures, starting, I believe, with the "Low-Life" double-set, starring "Battle-Winning" Frank with a five foot tall Cross Dressing Trev Robot, complete with matching bra and mini-skirt accessories.
Elsewhere, "Hostile Takeover" concluded with considerably more focus and a far greater measure of satisfaction than I would ever have imagined just four episodes before, where the lack of a clearly identified point of view character and an excess of unexplained backstory threatened to derail this reader's enjoyment. And it ought to be said that the absence in the final chapter of the tale's master-antagonist hardly helped dispel the sense that all ten chapters had described a showdown with a character who new readers rarely meet and never have a chance to get to know. And yet, for all of that, "Hostile Takeover" actually finished up being one of the year's most enjoyable and even touching serials. There's so much precise and moving characterisation woven throughout the story from Mr Williams and Mr D'Israelli that, in the end, emotion carries the story even when the plotting doesn't. It's a fact that can be noted in how the
story ends on a subtly affecting note, with the cold and formal beauty of the first chapter's opening panels reprised with Judge Frank now standing as lonely as Aimee appeared to be all those ten chapters before. I may still not know the slightest thing about Aimee, but Frank has won my affections, and if he's upset and lonely, then I'm concerned for him. It's a scene which provides evidence of careful forethought and structuring that I suspect will become more obvious when the story's collected, and, yes, that's a collection I'll happily be investing in.
It's always good to be won over, it's always good to have ill suspicions confounded. More "Low-Life" gentlemen, if you would.
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