For reasons well-stated elsewhere, it’s hard to want to give too much credit to Ultimate Wolverine vs Hulk. You have the sneaking suspicion it really should have been aborted upon the initial failure to release the third issue, instead of being allowed to suddenly reappear and accelerate to its conclusion some three years or so later. But here’s the thing… it’s bloody good. It’s probably the last remaining throwback to the days when the Ultimate universe was something cool and exciting, and it makes me miss the characters (particularly Fury) in a post-Loebized world. And like the TV series that both made Lindelof’s name and kept him from actually finishing this damned thing sooner, it’s well-constructed, and it’s funny, and it throws cracking twists here and there.

The introduction of Betty Ross as She-Hulk, for example, was a curve ball of the sort that the Ultimate books used to throw all the time – and indeed almost feels like the last hurrah for the line’s original sense of divergence from the regular MU – and worked as a genuinely interesting development, even though it shifted the book’s dynamic and subject matter away from that which the title would suggest. This issue does similar, by focusing almost entirely on Wolverine, but it works well as a “solo” book – Lindelof’s version of the character is well-defined, and as with his Fury, rather Bendis-ish. And in much the same way as Betty shifted the character balance last time, here we get an appearance from the barely-ever-used Ult version of Forge, who despite being the most ludicrously plot-devicey character in the history of comics, interacts amusingly with Wolverine.

You suspect that Lindelof’s taking the piss a bit with the way he’s been constructing the issues around flashbacks, framing devices and even dream sequences (a particularly funny one of these opens the issue) in such an arch, knowing way – but it suits the tone he’s established, with wisecracks littered throughout and even some gentle mocking of his lead. And it’s hard to deny that a book’s enjoyable to read when it looks as good as this does – moving away from the slightly exploitative nature of some of his She-Hulk art last issue, Yu is on better form than he’s been since Superman : Birthright. It’s an elaborate, considered piece of visual work (despite one slightly sloppy instance of storytelling, when only narrative caption tells us that Banner is throwing Betty through the air, given that the image looks like he’s ripping her in half), so streets ahead of the cluttered jumble of Secret Invasion that you’d struggle to identify them as the same artist. In particular, two instances of panel construction, cutting the borders around full-page Logan shots, are superbly conceived and realised.

If there’s a criticism of the book’s content, it’s that the story doesn’t feel desperately significant – we know its ending can’t really change anything, as it represents a fixed point in the long-since-past of the universe in which it lives, and as such you suspect it’s all going to turn out to be a load of fuss and bluster over nothing. Nevertheless, and despite feeling inherently uncomfortable about recommending a book whose publishing schedule feels like a direct insult to those bothered to read it, this is a classy and entertaining, if ultimately rather lightweight, piece of work.

Craig Kyle and Chris Yost deliver their usual sterling work here, managing to imbue a distinctly dull setting with a sense of drama. An offensive by the ruling powers of New York 3000 A.D. has caught X-Force off-guard, but Cable & Deadpool are more than up to the challenge. In the process, however, Nathan Summers unexpectedly exposes his new weakness to his oldest enemy…

The writing team’s natural ability to handle a large cast comes to the fore here, with Kyle & Yost ensuring that every character receives their moment in the post-apocalyptic sun. The strongest moment of the issue is when the book’s themes are allowed to enter the alien setting, with the villain of the piece’s mockery of the new team as underpowered for the task they face capturing much of the fun of the book. There’s also a nice moment when X-Force’s trademark self-awareness enters the writing, with Nathan’s Dark Knight-inspired comment about not being the Cable that’s “wanted” being a clear reference to his present under-explored and depowered incarnation.

Having now pencilled three issues consecutively, Clayton Crain is starting to cut some corners in his work, with character faces blurring in long shot. The artist proves an astute judge of when he can get away with these tricks, however, and generally speaking the art is rich and detailed, with particularly good implementations of the guest characters. Crain’s Deadpool is a magnificent zombie figure, managing to genuinely look disturbing for the first time in years. While the artist’s Cable bears little resemblance to the figure who graces his regular book, the result is vastly superior, with a superb sense of dynamism during his brief face-off with Stryfe.

Messiah War is high-quality entertainment, but the fact that the plot is derived solely from the pages of Cable gives the impression that Kyle and Yost have been briefly parachuted in to advance that book’s scenario in a way that its writer has failed to do. Allowing this writing team to tackle other figures in the X-canon is probably a fair trade-off for effectively placing X-Force on hold for three months, but it’s already clear which book the consequences of this story will be played out in.

Even though “the search for a new sorcerer supreme” isn’t quite the draw that someone at Marvel seems to think it is, New Avengers is still an enjoyable title, largely because it allows Bendis to do what Bendis does best. Which is, to say: talking. Lots of it. For the second issue in a row, a fair chunk of this issue revolves around super-heroes standing still and chatting about what’s going on. If you don’t truck with that, then fair enough – but go read Mighty Avengers instead.

The problem with that, however, is that the tone of the writing isn’t properly suited to the capabilities of the comic’s artists. Bachalo’s scenes often look wonderful, but as is typical with Bachalo’s current work, the action can be hard to follow. It’s exactly the sort of place you’d expect some dialogue to keep things a bit clearer, but all too often we get monosyllabic, if not entirely mute scenes. Meanwhile Tan, who just about manages to be at home drawing action, is forced to illustrate lavish speeches that rely on a subtely and preciseness of expression that Tan is incapable of. I hope you like your Avengers with cold, dead eyes, because that’s what you’re going to get from this title.

In fairness, the story itself is much more engaging than the trouncing I just gave the art would suggest. The threat of someone unwanted – perhaps even an outright villain – becoming Sorcerer Supreme is tangible, and it’s made even more amusing by the closing scenes which indicate that the new Sorcerer might actually be somewhere between the two. Few people will entirely understand the Hellcat references in the closing pages, but those of us that do get it will certainly be amused.

It’s fair to say that this isn’t quite the screaming-out-of-the-gate restart that New Avengers fans  after Secret Invasion finally buggered off, but it’s not horrible – it’s just a pity that it’s being massively outclassed by Dark Avengers. Does Bendis only have the energy for one great idea at a time, and if so, can we maybe think about him handling 50% of Marvel’s output for a while?

The second part of Neil Gaiman’s brief foray into Gotham certainly delivers conceptually, but the implementation of his light-bulb moment leaves a little to be desired. You can’t quibble with the level of thought that’s gone into this companion to Alan Moore’s Superman classic, but it regrettably feels a little artificial, due to the on-the-nose delivery of the central conceit.

Even before the arrival of the demonic medic, there was always something rather biblical about Grant Morrison’s run on Batman. Within the space of a few issues, Bruce Wayne faced an unwelcome prodigal son and had been smitten by an alluring Jezebel. All the talk of transcendental meditation couldn’t disguise the writer’s examination of whether Batman would fit into a Christian perspective. Gaiman takes this theme and provides a very different viewpoint, with the second part of ‘Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?‘ presenting a strongly Buddhist conception of the Dark Knight. The central conclusion is a truly brilliant one, arguing that Bruce Wayne’s actions are so perfectly balanced in terms of karma that the only possible next life for him is to be reborn as himself. The genius of this idea comes from the resonance it has with the dozens of retellings of Batman’s origin story that there have been over the years. More than any other superhero, Wayne is integrally tied to his past, and Gaiman’s idea is a superb way of acknowledging this.

Unfortunately, what DC has published is precisely that: an idea, not a story. The dramatic device of Batman’s funeral is soon discarded, with little of the Planetary-esque flitting between conceptions of the Batman canon that characterised the opening segment. The writer is soon reduced to having a narrator actually telling the title character the message of the story, being unable to find a way to convey it through events. Gaiman has only done half the job here. He’s told a story about Batman, but not a Batman story, and it’s unlikely that the unique view he gives of the title character will persist in the absence of a memorable narrative to hang it on. It’s hard to think of a way in which the situation could be remedied and stay within the “two single issues” format- there’s no room for the bold statements that the late Mrs Wayne makes to have been rooted in the various deaths related to the reader during the funeral. By trying to imitate a classic too slavishly, DC has squandered the chance for another to be born.

This week’s capsule reviews cover Amazing Spider-Man #592, Daredevil #118, Fantastic Force #1 and Supergirl #40. (continue reading…)

Quite a week for heavily-delayed, high-profile titles, isn’t it? A new Astonishing X-Men, Detective Comics #853 (more on that later in the week), and Kick-Ass. God alone knows where it’s been, mind – the story must have been written yonks ago given that they’ve nearly finished making a film of it, and Romita Jr is one of the most reliable and steady pencillers in the business, so he can’t have been holding it up. Anyway, it’s here now, and it remains one of the most talked-about books in comics whenever it shows its grubby, blood-drenched face.

It’s hard not to feel, though, that some of the spark has gone out of it while it’s been away. It’s always a fairly enjoyable read when you’ve got it in your hands, but it’s long since passed the point where it should have really asserted any real meaning beyond being a fun combination of apparent superhero “realism” and completely over-the-top ludicrousness. That said, this issue at least moves the plot on in significant fashion – finally bringing us to a point where the situation of the opening pages of #1 is in sight – and manages to wind up as one of the strongest so far, perhaps by virtue of pushing Dave out of sight for half of it.

Because, as the cover declares, this is “The Secret Origin of Big Daddy and Hit-Girl”. I can’t say I was hugely excited to learn more about the ultra-violent father-daughter vigilante team, but despite springing out of incredibly cliched origins (think The Punisher – directly namechecked in the issue – crossed with Tulip out of Preacher and you’re basically there), this is actually a decent little story. At the same time as stupidly overplaying the pair’s right-wing views, he manages to invest them with no small amount of sympathy, and the mutual reliance of their relationship (exemplified by it being Big Daddy’s idea to go hunting down the mob in the first place, but Hit-Girl’s to turn themselves into comic book characters) is well-defined. And with a line about “magic fucking hypno-ring”s, Hit-Girl gets by far the best line of the series so far.

Lending the book an air of class even despite the cliche and ultraviolence is, of course, the art of Romita Jr – his work in the sepia-toned flashback “origin” sequence is of particular note (as is the colour work of Dean White) – and if he struggles a bit with the deliberately cartoonish style of Hit-Girl (massive head, tiny body) seeming at odds with the realism of his work elsewhere in the book, he makes up for it by giving real character to Big Daddy’s “civilian” identity – no mean feat for a murderous, right-wing vigilante.

A twist of the “should have seen it coming but wasn’t really thinking about it enough to see it coming” variety means that the issue ends on a fairly genuine note of wanting to happen next – the problem, really, is that you wonder whether, by the time the next issue comes out, you’ll still remember that you were curious. Kick-Ass is an extremely well-crafted comic, with a gleeful sense of the absurd and the capacity to genuinely entertain – but it struggles to make itself something that you actually wait for during the publication breaks. And as fun as the story’s been at times, it hasn’t been the earth-shattering examination of “real life” superheroics that we might have expected – so you can’t help but wonder if, when the movie’s been and gone, anyone will still care.