DO NOT GO JENNNNNNNNTLY INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

Sweet Headless Aunt Petunia! My battered nerves are close to fraying and the very milk of my soul is furring at the fringes, which must mean it’s time for yet another visit to the BARGAIN BASEMENT OF DOOOOOM. It’s always a pleasure to dive bonce-first into some 100% genuine comic-mart 50p bins, and this week I’d like to chat about one of my favourite recent finds in said bargainous troves – FF (Vol. 2).

Launched at the end of 2012, FF is a counterpart title to Fantastic Four, written by Matt Fraction with art by Mike and Laura Allred. The basic premise is this: the Fantastic Four are heading off on an inter-dimensional adventure (ostensibly for a holiday, but in reality in search of a cure – Reed Richards has discovered that the team’s powers are killing them). In theory, their time-bending jaunt will mean they’ll be gone for a year from their perspective, but only four minutes in the ‘real’ world. Knowing all too well how often these kinds of things don’t go quite according to plan, given the unreliability of his ad-hoc doohickeys, Reed decides to appoint a team of pinch-hitters to fill in during the purported 240-second absence – both as a superhero team, and as mentors to the gifted kids of the Future Foundation (it’s complicated… see Hickman’s vast and glorious run on the previous volumes of Fantastic Four/FF). Each member gets to pick their own replacement: Reed selects Scott Lang, the second Ant-Man; Sue chooses Medusa, queen of the Inhumans; Ben turns to old friend Jennifer Walters, the Sensational and/or Savage She-Hulk; and Johnny forgets what he’s supposed to be doing and at the last minute appoints his pop-star girlfriend Darla Deering, who is kitted out with Ben’s old Thing exoskeleton (sans head).

So let’s get this straight: Matt Fraction, the Allreds, Ant-Man, She-Hulk, an Inhuman and a pink-haired female Thing. That there list comprises seven of my favourite things in the comics world. So why, in the name of Spragg the Living Hill, did I not pick this up at the time? Is it possible that DC spiked my espresso? More likely, my inner Fantastic Four fanboy was all ‘That’s not MY FF. What is this untrammelled ersatz bilge?’ and stormed off in a cosmic-ray-infused huff.

My FF was all about foreshortening.

As it turns out, FF is one of the most immensely satisfying books I’ve read in a while. Part of the appeal lies in the perfect balance of seriousness and silliness. On the one hand, you’ve got the disappearance of the original FF after their absence, as predicted, turns out to be much, much longer than the promised four minutes; the arrival of a mutilated figure who claims to be the Johnny Storm of the future, the last survivor of the time-lost team; Darla’s crisis of confidence; She-Hulk and Wyatt Wingfoot tentatively exploring their long-dormant feelings for each other, trying to understand why their relationship dwindled. Most affecting of all, Scott Lang is traumatised by the death of his daughter at the hands of Doctor Doom, suffering debilitating flashbacks, his judgement clouded by grief, reluctant to even be around the Future Foundation kids.

Yet, on the other hand, there’s a lot of brilliant, giddy and genuinely joyous humour: Ant-Man and Darla chasing Yancy Street ‘Internet jerks’ through a hotel; Alex Power’s flicking of a tiny holographic Dr Doom; the Moloids’ unrequited love for She-Hulk (who they call ‘The Jen’, or, in moments of extreme collective sexless lust, ‘The Jennnnnnnnnn’); their futile attempts to thwart her pitching of woo to Wyatt Wingfoot; the cartoonishly wannabe-evil and ultimately counterproductive machinations of Bentley-23 (son of the Wingless Wizard) as he attempts to aid said Moloids in their thwarting; the titanic failure of the least threatening Kirby-esque monster you’ve ever seen. There’s a plethora of genuine I’m-laughing-out-loud-and-the-people-on-the-bus-are-scared-of-the-crazy-guffawing-beardy-man moments in here.

Weaving together big concepts and high seriousness with decent comedy is no small task, but if any creative team can manage it, it’s this one. As far as I’m concerned, with Hawkeye and Sex Criminals, Matt Fraction has proved himself the single most adept and fearless writer working in comics today. And as for the Allreds… there’s just something infinitely flexible about their distinctive style. Yes, it’s ultra-cartoony, bright and vivid, a heightened, self-consciously two-dimensional reality steeped in pop art, seemingly perfect for light-hearted, romantic and comedic work. Yet, as their time on Madman and X-Force/X-Statix showed, this aesthetic is curiously well-suited to high drama, serious issues, even mind-shredding horror. At its fringes, the Allreds’ work edges into the indie-cult style of someone like Daniel Clowes or Charles Burns – there’s an eerie, disturbing potential in these bright, wholesome renditions that lends an extra, truly upsetting power to scenes such as those depicting Scott Lang’s grief. Rather than undercutting the emotional heft of these pieces, it provides a juxtaposition that amplifies them. And there are moments of pure visual-design genius too, which revel in the unique possibilities of the comics medium – see Scott and Darla’s chase scene in #3, the Wyatt/Jen dance sequence in #4, or the multi-layered newspaper front page in the same issue.

As the first few issues close, with the prospect of a doomed mission, a possible impostor, a traitor in their ranks, and multiple interpersonal dramas, I’m gasping to catch up and kicking myself that I haven’t done so already. Yet it’s a bittersweet future ahead of me, as the book was cancelled with #16. A shame, but a smattering of Fraction-Allred is infinitely better than no Fraction-Allred.

(originally published on The Big Glasgow Comic Page)