THE UNCANNY VADERY

As discussed in my last post, I've been a Star Wars fan for as long as I can remember. I was but a sprout when Episode IV was first screened on ITV and captured my imagination and heart. Star Wars was my world. Well, Star Wars and comics. More specifically, Star Wars and Marvel...

  

But until last week I had never read a Star Wars comic in my life (let alone read an EU novel). Which seems ridiculous – surely this would be a perfect synthesis of my interests? For some reason, I've always been repulsed by the very idea of it. I've never quite been able to put my finger on why...

'A laser-gun' might have had something to do with it.

  

A few days ago, I met up with an old, old friend who I see not nearly enough. He and I were tiny sprouts together, we grew up playing with each other's Kenner figures and playsets, we pretended to be Luke and Han in our back gardens, drew Star Wars pictures, went to see Return of the Jedi in the cinema. Our childhoods were inextricably intertwined with Star Wars. Obviously, I was really keen to hear what he thought of The Force Awakens. But he hadn't seen it and had little interest in doing so. I was stunned. For the love of Jabba, why, man, why? He told me that the prequels had completely crushed his interest in Star Wars, because 'It's amazing how much of the appeal of Star Wars is in things that aren't explained.'

My god. He's right. That's it.

So much of the original trilogy is left to your imagination. Who the Bothans are and why they died. What the Senate is and how it was disbanded. The badassness of Boba Fett. Who the hell Mon Mothma is. Anakin and Obi-Wan's relationship. Tosche's station. What happened in the Clone Wars. Those spider-robot-brain things in Jabba's palace. How Han won the Falcon from Lando. What a womp rat is. What happened to Dengar's face. Half of the familiar names are never even said in the films themselves but came to us via the toys – AT-ATs, Ugnaughts, Y-wings, Bosssk, Gamorrean Guards, Lobot, Wampas, Salacious Crumb...

Who hell he?

This willingness to drop the viewer into a world without feeling the need to explain every detail is a huge part of what makes OT Star Wars so compelling. It's also one of the many reasons why I find the prequels so unsatisfying. And it's the main factor, albeit a subconscious one, in my avoiding the comics and the EU for the last 30 years. I don't want to someone else to fill in the gaps for me, because the gaps are where quite a bit of the fun lies.

If the OT taught us anything, it's that not everything needs to be spelled out, while the prequels explained too much. Yet one of the recurring complaints I've read about The Force Awakens is that not enough is explained or resolved, and too much is left open for the sequels. Needless to say, I don’t think this is a problem – we're now in an age of serialised movie storytelling, and I embrace the wider scope of that. I'm all for movies working in isolation, but I'm equally excited about them working towards something bigger. TFA gets the balance right, and in leaving a number of questions unanswered, it opens up a lot of directions in which modern Star Wars can go.

All of this is a very long-winded, circumlocutory way of saying that I recently read the first two trades of Marvel’s new Star Wars and Darth Vader series. Set just after A New Hope, these intertwining stories follow Luke, Han, Leia et al as they mount a raid on an Imperial weapons factory, and Vader as he tries to uncover the identity of the Rebel pilot who blew up the Death Star. From a pure comics storytelling point of view, I enjoyed these quite a bit – especially the Vader one. Both are rollicking, multi-layered tales that interconnect in interesting ways and explore new facets of the Star Wars universe. And both have fantastic art, from John Cassaday and Salvador Larocca, respectively.

  

However, I do still have a psychological block with these titles, partly because of the aforementioned wish not to have the gaps filled in, but also because there is a slight element of uncanny valley to them. When comics are converted to films or TV, they are of necessity more or less faithful adaptations, taking sometimes considerable liberties with the source material in order to work in a live-action medium. The conversion of films to comics, however, entails a tendency to replicate the movie visuals as accurately as possible – which is, of course, great for purists, but for me often makes for an unsettling, stilted experience, heavy on photo reference, full of designs optimised for the screen, not for the page. Star Wars is, of course, full of classic, iconic design, and I’m in no way suggesting they should be reworked for the comics – but it makes it harder to see the comic in its own terms, rather than an as ersatz version of the real thing.

Ultimately, this is my brain’s problem. And I’m seeking help with it. But the comics are pretty good. If you can handle them.

DRESSING LIKE A SIX-FOOT PARROT IS HARDLY INCONSPICUOUS

IMPORTANT PREAMBLE: This blog was originally written for the Big Glasgow Comic Page, and was the last of my columns for that august institution. I originally rewrote it to omit all the references to goodbye, sayonara and such, but to be honest it slightly ripped the heart out of it. I'm a sentimental old geek, so I've left all the teary farewells in. They do not, however, mean that this is the final post on this blog. Unless I just can't be arsed to do any more. Which is possible. 

Good morning squishy carbon-based fleshbags and superior silicon sentients. It is with a weary, heavy and gin-pickled heart that I bid you welcome to the final BARGAIN BASEMENT OF DOOOOOM. Sadly, I have received my draft papers and must spend six years as a minion-slash-henchman-slash-cannon fodder in the private army of a sixth-rate supervillain (please send all correspondence c/o Dr Demonicus). As such, I must reluctantly take my leave from the BGCP family, but I for one eagerly anticipate my exciting new life of servitude, mortal danger and daily personal diminishment.

I could have been one of Dr Doom's goons, but noooo.

This being the last BBoD post, I’m all demob-happy and drunk on love, so I’m going to indulge myself all up in your face with a whole bunch of Alan Davis goodness, in the form of THE CLANDESTINE. It’s no secret that Davis ranks pretty bloody highly in my all-time pantheon of favourite comics artists – in fact, six days out of seven, I’d probably give him the top spot. Yet, back when I was a nipper, I never liked his early work on Excalibur and New Mutants, and would even deride it as ‘cartoony’. What a silly, silly and devilishly handsome young man I was back then. Having since acquired a taste for his work, I’ve graduated to a full-on obsessive, amassing almost everything in his back catalogue, and slavishly buying anything on which he daubs a curve.

While he’s rightly celebrated for his sumptuous work on high-profile titles such as JLA: The Nail, X-Men, Fantastic Four: The End and Avengers Prime, his lesser-known scribblings are equally worthy of laudation. Both penned and pencilled by Davis, with support from legendary inky soulmate Mark Farmer and colours by Sophie Heath and Helen Nally, the occasionally definitely-articled ClanDestine first ran for 12 issues from 1994–1995. The series begins in stereotypical fashion, with a couple of naïve young costumed heroes – Crimson Crusader and Imp – interrupting a warehouse robbery. It turns out they are twins, Rory and Pandora Destine, keen to conceal their covert nocturnal superosity from their strict uncle, Walter. However, their actions this night have unforeseen ramifications – and when strange, semi-human creatures attack their family home looking for a whoozit or a whatzit called the Gryphon, it’s more than just the twins’ secret that comes to light. Before their eyes, Uncle Walter (a romance novelist by day) transforms into a giant, oddly proportioned, blue Hulk-like creature with flaming hair. 

His own dark secret revealed, Walter decides the time has come to tell the twins the truth about their extended family. Those people the kids thought were their aunties, uncles and grandparents are nothing of the sort, but are in truth their siblings – some of whom are hundreds of years old, all of whom have superhuman powers. They are all the children of Adam, an 800+-year-old indestructible Adonis, who we first encounter sitting in a hippified VW camper van in deep space, having a little chat with a slightly confused Silver Surfer.

 

Like many families, the Destines have drifted apart over the years, something actively encouraged via their Relative Stranger Protocol. Fearing exposure, the family have nurtured their estrangement, taken on new periodic identities to hide their longevity, and vowed to use their powers covertly, subtly, and only for personal gain. Now, however, someone has started to track down and kill the family members, sparking a chain of events that brings these oddballs reluctantly back into each other’s company for the first time in decades, if not centuries. Aside from Adam, Rory, Pandora and Walt, we meet, among others, Sam – a stern, aloof warrior woman capable of forming metallic armour and weapons; Kay – a vastly powerful body-hopping psychic with a hedonistic streak and questionable ethics; Newton – a super-genius inventor with more than a passing resemblance to Woody Allen, who spends much of his time on an alien world playing emperor-warlord in a genetically engineered Conan-esque second body; and Dom – a harlequinesque acrobat and stage magician whose Daredevil-dwarfing hyper-senses force him to live in seclusion.

It’s an extremely enjoyable book, fun but not flippant, vividly colourful and full of big concepts, family drama and askew ideas, with a very British sensibility. Rory and Pandora are the point-of-view characters, and it’s their – or, more accurately, Rory’s – youthful aspiration of becoming a superhero that places them at odds with the family’s survival tactic of remaining hidden. This clash between idealism and pragmatism is the catalyst for a series of events that imperil the family, threaten their exposure (and, indeed, survival), and cause them to question their status quo. Adam in particular, immortal and invulnerable, barely even capable of feeling anything at all, a father who has spent most of his youngest children’s lives sitting in a camper van on an asteroid several light years away, begins to reassess their purpose. Nonetheless, it is stressed, over and over again, that these are not superheroes, despite their powers. 

Indeed, they’re not particularly competent or heroic when they try to operate in the manner of yer traditional Marvel heroes. Dom finds himself knocked into ecstatic senselessness at an inopportune moment by the taste of chocolate; Kay alters a man’s memories to illegally inherit a fortune; Walter has anger-management issues and difficulty returning to human form. Rory fantasises about saving the Avengers, but more often than not the day is saved by others – by Spider-Man, by the Punisher, by Doctor Strange, by the last-minute return of the family patriarch. In fact, Adam’s climactic confrontation with the big villain in #4 is one of my favourite ‘fight’ scenes in comics – stoic, peaceful, understanding and utterly invulnerable, he simply refuses to engage in combat and then offers his foe the opportunity to leave. The way Davis draws Adam in this scene – serene, compassionate, strong, but also alien in his distance from the frailty of humanity – is masterful.

Naturally, Davis and Farmer’s artwork is arse-smackingly good throughout their run on the title. Clean, fluid and traditional in terms of form and style, but hugely inventive in terms of layout and angles, brilliantly expressive depictions of character, and wildly explosive and visceral when it comes to action, this is a great example of why I rate Davis so highly. Alas, he and Farmer left the title after #8, and the remaining four issues are completely forgettable, conveying none of the distinctive character of the book, despite new penciller Pino Rinaldi’s stilted attempts to ape Davis’s style.

Still, ClanDestine is very much Davis’s baby, and he has returned to these characters again a few occasions: in a ClanDestine/X-Men mini-series (which rightly but snarkily retconned the non-Davis issues of the original series as a dream), a further five-issue mini series in 2008 and a story that ran through three Davis-penned and-outrageously-beautifully-pencilled 2010 annuals (Fantastic Four, Daredevil, Wolverine). However, this mythos has never really caught on in the way the Davis clearly hoped it would. My theory as to why is this – in a world full of stretchy people, big green man-monsters, gods incarnate, shiny aliens, living robots and fuzzy blue mutants who smell like bum gas, the notion of a super-powered family is just not that outré. The whole point of the Destine clan is their clandestine nature (I see what they did there!), but that only really makes sense if they’re the only ones of their kind. My feeling is that these stories would have much more impact in their own universe (perhaps à la Jupiter’s Legacy), but are less well served by being woven into the wider Marvel continuity. This may have lessened ClanDestine’s appeal to casual readers, but makes these issues no less fun or gripping – or gorgeously illustrated.

Right, that’s your lot. Six months, 20 columns and more than 20,000 words later, I’m outta here. It’s been a pleasure being a part of the BGCP family, who have indulged my ramblings week on week. My apologies for never quite getting round to the other titles on my list: Firestorm, Green Lantern: Mosaic, Captain Atom, Peter David’s original X-Factor run, Hourman, The Ray, All Star-Squadron, HATE, the first couple of dozen issues of Justice League Europe, John Byrne’s run on West Coast Avengers, Dragon’s Claws, Secret Society of Super-Villains, Dork!, L.E.G.I.O.N, etc., etc.… But if you never have, you should definitely check out these titles. Because they’re cool. Because comics are cool. Never forget.

THE DEFINITVE AND LEGALLY BINDING BUT NOT TECHNICALLY ENDORSED BY MARVEL STUDIOS ULTRON IS MY ELVIS MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE END OF PHASE 2 SUBJECTIVE EVALUATION REPORT AND OBLIGATORY REVERSE-NUMERICAL RANKING aka OO, LOOK, A LIST

With Ant-Man marking the end of Phase 2, it’s time to RANK ALL OF THE MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE MOVIES.

It's remarkable now to think back to how we saw the teaser scene at the end of Iron Man. Surely they're not really going to make an Avengers movie...? That would be both ridiculously ambitious and almost too exciting for words. And yet here we are, 12 movies down the line. Just as they revolutionised comics in the 1960s, Marvel have changed the face of cinema and TV, for good or ill, with big-budget superheroes dominating the summer season and interconnected universes springing up all over the place. We almost take it for granted, but it's quite a remarkable achievement for a new film studio. And what's even more remarkable is the overall quality of MCU films – I like them all, to a greater or lesser extent, some with reservations, some with unfettered adoration. Perhaps I'm shockingly easy to please when it comes to comic-book cinema, but I don't think there's a proper stinker in the bunch. Of course, the downside of this is that they've achieved this consistency by arguably being somewhat formulaic – but get around this by smartly adapting the formula to different genres (sci-fi, heist, fantasy epic, thriller). 

The exact order here could change from day to day. Nonetheless, there are three distinct tiers of goodness (1–3 are wonderful; 4–8 are great, but imperfect; 9–12 are good, but have considerable issues). 

So here goes, from worst to best...

12 THE INCREDIBLE HULK 

Actually pretty strong and engaging thanks largely to Edward Norton's portrayal of Banner, but I deem this by far Marvel’s weakest effort, purely by virtue of the nigh-unwatchable and horribly overlong final battle’s grotesque, jarring, PS2 cut-scene CGI. Plus, while Eric Bana and Mark Ruffalo are both somewhat visible in their respective emerald personas, Norton and his Hulk seem like two different entities entirely. Norton conveys the sense of the monster in the man, but we never feel the man in the monster.

11 IRON MAN 2

Nowhere near as dire as I used to think, but still a confused, meandering film with an extremely weak and unnecessary mid-section. It took several repeat viewings before I began to remember anything that happened in this film. Not a good sign. But Johansson, Rourke, Gregg and Rockwell are an excellent supporting team.

10 THOR: THE DARK WORLD

This attracted quite a lot of scorn from fans, but I actually enjoyed it quite a lot. There’s much to dig here: the full-on Asgardian sci-fi-ness, the surprisingly comedic tone, Kat Dennings, the inventive final warp battle. The major downside, of course, is the criminal waste of Christopher Eccleston as blank-cypher baddie Malekith. And the fact that Anthony Hopkins is virtually unconscious throughout.

9 IRON MAN 3 

I’m still not sure why this movie is so reviled. The Mandarin was never this interesting in the comics… What I like about IM3 is precisely the fact that Iron Man isn’t in it much. I really like broken-down Stark in Spy Kids mode. On the downside, Downey's schtick does begin to grate a little and pre-makeover Guy Pearce's geeky loser is a little on the nose. However, it has some of the best sequences in any Iron Man movie – barrel of monkeys, the beach house assault, the Mandarin reveal – plus the best final battle of the trilogy.

8 ANT-MAN 

One of the more fun MCU films. Great characters, innovative action, snappy dialogue, good comedy beats, compelling father-daughter themes, nice MCU connectivity… I particularly like the fact that although Paul Rudd was theoretically the lead, he was very much overshadowed, both in performance and in the storyline, by Evangeline Lily and Michael Douglas. It felt like their movie. It was entertaining enough that I’m willing to overlook its flaws – the ethnic stereotype sidekicks, cookie-cutter bad guy, the wildly inconsistent nature of Ant-Man’s powers, the disregard for Judy Greer, the whiff of being an Iron Man retread, etc.

7 CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER 

Lots to like about this. A well-realised Cap in Chris Evans (though for me, he only came to fully inhabit the role in subsequent films), great period setting, enjoyable shifts in tone, Hayley Atwell in general, the Howling Commandos, Hugo Weaving chewing scenery… I find the pacing a little off though. A little too slow at some points, zipping forward via montage in others. And there’s no reason (except drama dictates) for him to crash into the ice. Go for that dance, you Star-Spangled fool…!

6 THOR 

Risky and preposterous it may have been, but Branagh's Thor is vastly enjoyable. Big in scope, from cosmic realms to small-town USA, funny, engaging characters, the MCU’s best villain yet, nudie Chris Hemsworth, Kat Dennings and a Kirby-design classic realised in the bloody Destroyer. Frankly, I’m not sure why it’s not higher.

5 IRON MAN

The original, yes, but not quite the best. While Downey Jr was made for this role, and almost everything about the film is note-perfect, tightly plotted and entertaining, the final battle is something of let down after everything that came before. Ending films is hard, clearly.

4 AVENGERS: AGE OF ULTRON 

I still haven’t managed a second viewing of this, but I did enjoy its immense sprawl, even if it was almost too much to take in at first glance. As a large-scale spectacle, far better than the first Avengers, but not quite as pacy or tightly written, nor does it quite have the absolutely bloody perfect moments of the first. And yes, it has some inexplicable Thor-in-a-pond nonsense. But it does have Ultron. And the Vision. And the Scarlet Witch. Eagerly awaiting the DVD…

(For a more on my feelings about this movie, go here: http://ultronismyelvis.blogspot.co.uk/2015/04/avengers-age-of-ultron-spoiler-free.html)

3 GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY

Easily the funniest and most relentlessly entertaining of the MCU films, yet far from an empty piece of fluff. There’s a richness to the unabashed sci-fi world-building here that’s compelling and efficient. All of the main characters are fascinating and relatable in their own way, the music is great (and also a character), the visuals are just beautiful. Plus this has the best climax of any Marvel movie to date – when Quill says ‘You said it yourself, bitch– we’re the Guardians of the Galaxy’, it’s sarcastic but purposeful, triumphant but full of sadness too. Bloody masterful. Makes me want to both weep and kick down walls. If Guardians has a flaw, it’s that… come to think of it, it doesn’t. Blimey.

2 AVENGERS 

It’s difficult for me to fully express how excited I was prior to the release of Avengers. It felt like I’d been waiting almost 30 years for this film. And amazingly, it didn’t disappoint. I love pretty much everything about Avengers, start to finish, from Loki’s entrance to Natasha’s interrogation to ‘Shakespeare in the park’ and ‘I’m always angry’. Infinitely rewatchable.

1 CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER

While Winter Soldier doesn’t quite have the rewatch factor and gung-ho entertainment value of the others in the top three, it is for me the most interesting, impressive and well-made MCU film yet. Chris Evans really comes into his own here, Anthony Mackie and Scarlett Johansson are excellent in their supporting roles, the themes are big, surprisingly subversive and have real-world resonance, and the events of the movie caused a massive shift in the status quo of the MCU (at least for a while). But arguably the biggest star is the action – this film features some of the best, most exquisitely choreographed fight scenes outside of The Raid, Ong-Bak or Enter the Dragon. A big 70s conspiracy thriller mixed with dystopian sci-fi and bone-breaking martial arts brilliance? Count me in.

THE LETTER ON HIS HEAD STANDS FOR 'ASS KICKED BY BATROC'

Good morning starshine… the Earth says hello. And it also bids you welcome to the cheap but chafing environs of the BARGAIN BASEMENT OF DOOOOOM. Inspired by the eye-scorching splendiferousness of last year’s best comic-book movie without a Yondu, The Winter Soldier, I’m keen to revisit a relatively unsung (and crucially, most bargainous) period of CAPTAIN AMERICA.

Must admit, Cap is a character I’ve often struggled with. As a brightly coloured, morally upright paragon of virtue, he seems too virtuous to be interesting, too confident to allow for drama, too sanctimonious to be sympathetic. And as a patriotic character draped in a flag, he rankles me intensely on a political, symbolic level too. Yet there’s something about this guy that I find fascinating… Maybe it’s precisely because on the surface he’s the most whitebread, tedious, mom-and-apple-pie North American superheroic power-fantasy cliché imaginable, that he inspires writers to excavate further and deeper, to explore what makes this flag-wearing relic tick. Not only is Captain America a man out of time, he’s also a fictional character out of time – this two-fisted patriotic icon was created in the 1940s, and arguably that’s where he belongs. On the other hand, as a living anachronism, he’s both a useful tool with which to reflect on our era and a periscope to the past.

In recent years, Brubaker and Millar and Hickman and Remender have done fantastic things with this character. And with the release of Avengers and his two solo films, he’s been elevated to an A-list cinematic protagonist too. But prior to his current super-cool espionage/sci-fi-based renaissance, he spent many years being pretty square. One of my personal favourite Cap runs sits squarely in this era, from #332–#350 (1987–1989). Here, Steve Rogers is forced by the US government to give up his alter-ego and is replaced by John Walker – who turns out to be a stronger, meaner, murderier Captain America. Penned by Mark Gruenwald, this storyline emerged in response to fans asking why Captain America couldn’t kill (a precursor to a similar exercise in Batman).

Walker was at first arguably even more patriotic and morally resolute than Rogers, but less psychologically stable. Over his 18-month stint behind the shield, he increasingly went off the rails, his trail of bodies dotted with members of the Watchdogs, Ultimatum and the Resistants, as well as Professor Power, and his old colleagues Left-Winger and Right-Winger (no, really). 

At the same time, Rogers established a new, red-white-and-black identity (simply ‘The Captain’) and assembled a small band of allies, exploring ways of fulfilling and defining his purpose without the backing of official status or nationalist symbolism.

As celebrated as this arc is, with some issues fetching quite a few pennies, the less lauded period preceding it is equally enjoyable. Mostly penned by Mark Gruenwald, with a few early issues by Mike Carlin, the run from #302 to #331 is full of gems. Here we get Cap entering into a then-final, most-definitely-ultimate-and-no-backsies showdown with the Red Skull; taking on my favourite pesky but ultimately honourable foot-fighting Frenchman Batroc, as well as his partners Zaran and Machete, as they succeed in stealing his shield; going up against the monstrous but tragic Armadillo; teaming up with Captain Britain to fight Mordru the Mystic; encountering the mischievous Madcap; and a undergoing a four-issue showdown with the super-soldier-creating Power Broker. Throughout this period, Cap is a slightly lost figure, often itinerant and struggling to hold down a job as artist for the Captain America comic – an awkwardly circular concept that has quite staggering potential for establishing a regrettable trajectory towards a storytelling dead-end.

There are four particularly notable highlights of this run. The first is the introduction and ongoing development of the Serpent Society as viable foes for Captain America. These snake-themed villains may be a little hokey in a post-Brubaker milieu, but I always dug ’em – they were a motley assortment, ranging from avaricious but basically benign thieves to merciless killers, united only by their belly-crawlin’ inspiration and a leader whose teleportation powers promised that they need never again fear incarceration. They bickered, they squabbled, gained and lost members, butchered MODOK, tried to turn Reagan into more of a reptile than he actually was, and remained a slithery, venomous thorn in Cap’s side for years. And when Kevin Feige recently announced that the third Cap film would focus on these slithering snakes, I was thrilled – after that, the real announcement, Civil War, was frankly anticlimatic. 

Secondly, the Scourge storyline, which had been threading through the Marvel universe for a while, came to a head in #319 and #320. Scourge of the Underworld, a nameless, faceless assassin, had been popping up in a whole range of titles, executing minor criminals deemed surplus to Marvel requirements and/or hugely embarrassing. In #319 he thins the herd by a dozen-and-a-half in the space of a couple of panels – and lo, the universe did weep for the unimaginable loss of Commander Kraken, Rapier, Megatak and Turner D. Century. 

Third, in #321 and #322, Cap comes into conflict with his polar opposite – the fairly self-explanatorily-named Flag-Smasher. This is a man who believes in the dissolution of all nations and is sworn to destroy their symbols – so guess who’s no. 1 on his list (after Captain Canuck, Shamrock and Ursa Major)? What’s interesting about this tale is that it leads to Cap being forced to kill for the first time in his history (although considering he was a soldier who fought Nazis in WWII, this always seemed like a faintly ludicrous conceit), and the ramifications would haunt him for years.

Fourthly, issues #323 and #327 introduce us to the Super-Patriot, a more reactionary, less nuanced take on the flag-draped hero concept, a younger, more powerful upstart keen to take over Cap’s place as the USA’s foremost star-spangled icon. And this is exactly what he does, though not in the way he anticipates – eventually taking over from Rogers after he’s forced to step down, kicking off the excellent Cap No More! arc alluded to above.

So what’s the point of all this? There was once a time when Cap wasn’t a cool, bad-ass violence-vendor tailor-made for high-octane action and deep espionage, but a somewhat stuffy and wholesome figure, slightly lost and bewildered in a world not his own, trying to maintain his firm, old-timey grasp of right and wrong in a more complex era. They’re compelling and entertaining, well written and solidly drawn (courtesy of Paul Neary, mostly), embodying a curious mix of the philosophical musings and encroaching grimness of the modern age with old-fashioned four-colour hokum. For every political metaphor, moral dilemma or massacre, there’s a lady with snakes for arms. Or a man who looks like an armadillo. Or a human pinball bouncing across a giant typewriter. Or, most importantly, a Batroc.

And everything with a Batroc is good.

(originally published on The Big Glasgow Comic Page)