Most contemporary Christmas stories pivot around one or more of three well-established dynamics: (1.) exploring Santa Claus mythology, (2.) converting an anti-Christmas rascal, and (3.) saving Christmas itself from impending doom. Consider Fred Claus, the latest Vince Vaughn opus released on DVD. Regarding Santa lore, Fred Claus answers the heretofore unasked question, "What if Santa Claus had a brother?" Variations of this inquiry common in contemporary storytelling include, "What if Santa Claus had a child," "What if Santa Claus needed a successor," and "What if Santa Claus was institutionalized for claiming he was, well, Santa Claus?" Further, Kevin Spacey plays an efficiency expert determined to end Christmas -- like the Grinch that tried to steal it, or the Scrooge that tried to ignore it. I don't envy Christmas its rogues gallery. Fortunately, in Fred Claus' case, an ailing Santa still fulfills Spacey's childhood wish (which is, ironically, a Superman cape) and fills him with the Christmas spirit . . . and not a moment too soon, as Spacey's plans to halt the holiday are nearly fulfilled, if not for a last minute miracle.
Sound familiar? That's what I mean. Every secular Christmas story retains at least one of those characteristics. Heck, if it didn't, audiences would be reduced to watching happy people celebrate a peaceful holiday. We can't have that, can we?
Christmas comic books are no exception to these rules. In fact, the comic book, a medium dependent on visual iconography and conflict-driven storytelling, is the perfect forum for a contemporary Christmas story. (I've mentioned this before.) The comparisons are palpable -- Christmas has its make-believe heroes, complete with magical origins and supernatural abilities, determined to deliver good will to the world. That Santa delivers toys and doesn't battle mad scientists is just a footnote. Rudolph's red nose is just a turn on the color wheel from being a magic green ring.
So, for the next twelve reviews, I'm going to take a look at some of these comics and see how they hold up to tradition and expectation. In true A Comic A Day fashion, I've never read these comic books before; like a child on Christmas morning, I really don't know what to expect.
Which is why I've decided to begin, like everything else in my comic book collecting career, with Erik Larsen, with his beloved Savage Dragon. Contrary to what my blog might lead you to believe, I haven't read every issue of Savage Dragon; in fact, I have a few significant holes in my Dragon collection. Sometimes, at three bucks a pop, one just has to discriminate when staring at the new release shelf week after week. Also, despite my love for his work, I've acknowledged, like many fans, that Larsen's work has been inconsistent in recent years, thanks in large part to his role as publisher for Image Comics. Fortunately, this holiday issue of Savage Dragon predates that erratic work and reflects the best of post issue #100 Dragon -- featuring Dragon and his family battling Chicago's freakish underground. Specifically, in this issue, Dragon's former fellow cop Rita is missing; coincidentally, Santa has disappeared, too, and some of his elves have offered their services on the hunt for Rita if the finned-one can save Christmas. While practice-flying the sleigh, the villainous, jet-sled riding Seeker arrives, and as Dragon defeats him, his friends find Rita and finish off her captors. It's a happy ending, albeit a bit typical for Dragon, what with both of his hands blown off.
Don't worry. They'll grow back.
That's the thing about Savage Dragon -- the outrageous is totally normal, and with Larsen's recent foray into cutting edge Presidential politics, in every way, from Rita's long-standing struggle with side effects from a Martian shrinking ray, to Barack Obama congratulating Dragon on his return to the police force. Interestingly, Larsen doesn't actually show Santa in this issue (browse through some Dragon back issues for the only Santa appearance that suits the series), and in fact Saint Nick's abduction is reduced to a fleeting, tongue-in-cheek caption on the last page, but this dismissive tone is satirical to the very point I posed in the beginning. When Santa's helper first appeared, Dragon expressed his disbelief. Then, with Christmas in peril, the reader gets a sneak peak at the North Pole, a glimpse at how some of "the magic" works. Then, finally, Christmas is saved.
Sound familiar?
I confess, I haven't seen A Miracle on 34th Street in its entirety. I haven't read A Christmas Carol. But I remember that time the gray Hulk battled Rhino as a mall Santa Claus. I remember when a Scarecrow-gas victim dressed as Santa and went on a killing spree in Gotham City just for the fun of it. I remember the first episode of The Simpsons, and every Christmas episode since. While literature and film have established the traditions of holiday storytelling, one need not indulge them considering the strength of the Christmas spirit. From Ebenezer Scrooge to the Savage Dragon . . . the essence of selflessness is the gift that keeps on giving.
Savage Dragon #106 was published in December 2002 and is by Erik Larsen, with lettering by Chris Eliopoulos and coloring by Reuben Rude.
Showing posts with label Chris Eliopoulos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chris Eliopoulos. Show all posts
Monday, December 01, 2008
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Wha . . . Huh? #1
Wha . . . Huh? #1, 2005, Marvel Comics
writers: Brian Bendis, Mark Millar, Ed Brubaker, Brian K. Vaughn, Marc Andreyko, Nick Thompson, Mark Waid, Tom Peyer, & Stan Lee
artist: Jim Mahfood
colorist: Shaughn Struble
letterer: Chris Eliopoulos
associate editor: MacKenzie Cadenhead
editor: C.B. Cebulski
EIC: Joe Quesada
publisher: Dan Buckley
That’s it. What . . . Huh? #1 is the most self-indulgent comic book I’ve ever read, and its shameless sense of self-promotion and indulgence, which takes the concept of “comics contributor celebrity” and elevates the industry’s biggest names to unapologetic divas, has turned me off to the medium altogether. That’s right. I’m finished with comics. This blog is officially over.
Happy April Fools.
After some of the garbage I’ve subjected myself (and consequently, you) to over the past year and three months, did you actually think that a little Marvel mayhem would be responsible for my throwing in the towel? Oh, don’t get me wrong -- I meant what I said in my description of this issue, but fortunately the writers retained just enough self-degradation and satire to keep What . . . Huh? just this side of literary decadence. Actually, it’s Jim Mahfood’s art that sweetens this pill, and he’s the reason I picked up this issue in the first place. Only he could pull off what these writers sought to accomplish. After all, Mahfood’s hip hop sensibilities are already engrained with a sense of self-promotion, so a comic book that stars the very writers that dabble in comic books is the perfect project for him (aside from Image’s Felt, which sucked me into his career in the first place).
Uhm, the thing about reviewing Wha . . . Huh? is, there’s no right way to do it. Imagine every train of thought your favorite contemporary comic book writer has ever had, completely derailed into the ditch of Bronze Age Marvel camp. Most of the issue explores such critical inquiries and subsequent alternate realities as “What if Black Panther were actually white?” and “What if the Avengers all had beards?” and “What if M.O.D.O.K. had an itch?” A few of the concepts are interesting, like “What if the Identity Crisis happened in the Marvel Universe?” in which, midway through, many heroes realize they didn’t know the Thing’s Aunt Petunia that well anyway. The most ambitious gag in the whole ish is “What if Stan Lee was the writer of Ultimate Spider-man?” Spoiler alert: What follows is the beginning of a straight Amazing Fantasy #15 reprint. Great gag, man, and indicative of the lack of originality plaguing many mainstream comics today.
Well, if this blog has proven anything, it’s that I’m in this whole comic book thing for the long haul. My girlfriend can attest to that. In the meantime, if your faith in comics ever wavers, find What . . . Huh? It’ll remind you of everything you love to hate.
You’d be a fool to feel any different.
writers: Brian Bendis, Mark Millar, Ed Brubaker, Brian K. Vaughn, Marc Andreyko, Nick Thompson, Mark Waid, Tom Peyer, & Stan Lee
artist: Jim Mahfood
colorist: Shaughn Struble
letterer: Chris Eliopoulos
associate editor: MacKenzie Cadenhead
editor: C.B. Cebulski
EIC: Joe Quesada
publisher: Dan Buckley
That’s it. What . . . Huh? #1 is the most self-indulgent comic book I’ve ever read, and its shameless sense of self-promotion and indulgence, which takes the concept of “comics contributor celebrity” and elevates the industry’s biggest names to unapologetic divas, has turned me off to the medium altogether. That’s right. I’m finished with comics. This blog is officially over.
Happy April Fools.
After some of the garbage I’ve subjected myself (and consequently, you) to over the past year and three months, did you actually think that a little Marvel mayhem would be responsible for my throwing in the towel? Oh, don’t get me wrong -- I meant what I said in my description of this issue, but fortunately the writers retained just enough self-degradation and satire to keep What . . . Huh? just this side of literary decadence. Actually, it’s Jim Mahfood’s art that sweetens this pill, and he’s the reason I picked up this issue in the first place. Only he could pull off what these writers sought to accomplish. After all, Mahfood’s hip hop sensibilities are already engrained with a sense of self-promotion, so a comic book that stars the very writers that dabble in comic books is the perfect project for him (aside from Image’s Felt, which sucked me into his career in the first place).
Uhm, the thing about reviewing Wha . . . Huh? is, there’s no right way to do it. Imagine every train of thought your favorite contemporary comic book writer has ever had, completely derailed into the ditch of Bronze Age Marvel camp. Most of the issue explores such critical inquiries and subsequent alternate realities as “What if Black Panther were actually white?” and “What if the Avengers all had beards?” and “What if M.O.D.O.K. had an itch?” A few of the concepts are interesting, like “What if the Identity Crisis happened in the Marvel Universe?” in which, midway through, many heroes realize they didn’t know the Thing’s Aunt Petunia that well anyway. The most ambitious gag in the whole ish is “What if Stan Lee was the writer of Ultimate Spider-man?” Spoiler alert: What follows is the beginning of a straight Amazing Fantasy #15 reprint. Great gag, man, and indicative of the lack of originality plaguing many mainstream comics today.
Well, if this blog has proven anything, it’s that I’m in this whole comic book thing for the long haul. My girlfriend can attest to that. In the meantime, if your faith in comics ever wavers, find What . . . Huh? It’ll remind you of everything you love to hate.
You’d be a fool to feel any different.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Kick-ass #1
Kick-ass #1, April 2008, Marvel Comics
writer: Mark Millar
penciller: John Romita, Jr.
inker: Tom Palmer
colorist: Dean White
letterer: Chris Eliopoulos
cover inks: Klaus Janson
editor: John Barber
Blogger's note: Entry for Sunday, March 2, 2008.
Kick-ass #1. Let's talk about it.
Kick-ass #1 is the elephant in the room. Any superhero fanboy (like me) that doesn't admit to daydreaming about becoming a superhero himself is a liar. Maybe he doesn't go so far as to design his own costume and plot his criminal surveillance (like me), but the modern superhero genre was founded on the premise of people becoming more than they really are, from training one's body and mind to its pinnacle to evolving thanks to a radioactive spider bite. (That the genre began with not a man but an alien disguised as a human is the ultimate irony, as if the superhero concept actually began in reverse to its true social significance.) To couple these fantastic narratives with the vivid imagery characteristic of comic books is escapism in its most perfect form, for while comics aren't as perpetual as film, they still drop the audience into the middle of the action, allowing for that space between panels to inspire more adventure and a sense of time and perspective, if the reader so chooses. Who could read a comic book and not want to fly alongside the Human Torch, or explore Earth's underbelly with Hellboy, or leap rooftop to rooftop with Shadowhawk?
So Kick-ass makes it happen. Just as Hamlet adopted the "play within a play" motif, or Seinfeld boasted "a show about nothing in a show about nothing" subplot, so too Kick-ass envisions an escapist fantasy within an escapist fantasy. Dave Lizewski insists that he's a regular high school -- he likes Scrubs and the Goo Goo Dolls, he fantasizes about his moderately attractive but irresistibly dominating biology teacher, and he is an old child raised by a single, hard-working father, since his mother died of an aneurysm. He and his friends like comics, too, and they swear like sailors. So, toss all of these incredibly mundane, relatively commonplace elements into the blender that is the adolescent mind via Mark Millar and John Romita, Jr., and we get a kid that buys a wet suit and walks on rooftops.
So where does the "kick ass" part come in? How 'bout when our young hero finally decides to engage the enemy, who is, in this case, some kids spraypainting the side of a building. For a few panels, I actually thought Lizewski was going to pull it off, that his self-fueled training and high protein diet would result in the skills necessary to take down three seemingly harmless punks. The knife to his gut, and the hit-and-run driver that smacked his already bloody frame across the street, quickly brought me back down to Earth. We already know that Dave will survive these injuries and experience further adventures, since this issue begins with a grim look into his crimefighting future, but these final seven pages do more harm to this series' title character than some superheroes experience in years' worth of stories.
For which I'm a little grateful, in case some kid picked up this book because of its eye-catching name and almost perceived it as a how-to guide for adolescent vigilantism.
So, yes, Millar tells an incredible story, though with a tagline like the one on this issue's cover, he has a little bit more work to do: "The Greatest Superhero Book of All Time is Finally Here!" John Romita, Jr., fresh from his stint on World War Hulk, is in incredible form, and Tom Palmer's inks capture Romita's characteristic cross-hatching, depth, and detail just as capably as longtime collaborator Klaus Janson. (Romita is obviously at his best when he shares a creative investment in the series, i.e. The Gray Area.) Heck, Romita has made his mark on almost all of Marvel's superhero stable, so it makes sense that he finally draws us, the fans, projected into the form of this Dave Lizewski kid. I couldn't help but notice Dean White's colors, too -- his work has a watercolor quality to it, creating a dreamy, almost filtered essence to every page. The hues are realistic and rich, yet also ethereal, as if this is the escapist fantasy we've all been having all along.
Well, except for the part where Kick-ass gets his ass kicked. At the end of my superhero fantasy I make out with the chick from church camp and get home in time for dinner. That wouldn't make much a comic, though, would it? Besides, without Millar's twist of the real world ramifications of superhero vigilantism, Kick-ass #1 would just be a comic we've all seen before anyway. In our own mind's eye.
C'mon . . . you know it's true!
writer: Mark Millar
penciller: John Romita, Jr.
inker: Tom Palmer
colorist: Dean White
letterer: Chris Eliopoulos
cover inks: Klaus Janson
editor: John Barber
Blogger's note: Entry for Sunday, March 2, 2008.
Kick-ass #1. Let's talk about it.
Kick-ass #1 is the elephant in the room. Any superhero fanboy (like me) that doesn't admit to daydreaming about becoming a superhero himself is a liar. Maybe he doesn't go so far as to design his own costume and plot his criminal surveillance (like me), but the modern superhero genre was founded on the premise of people becoming more than they really are, from training one's body and mind to its pinnacle to evolving thanks to a radioactive spider bite. (That the genre began with not a man but an alien disguised as a human is the ultimate irony, as if the superhero concept actually began in reverse to its true social significance.) To couple these fantastic narratives with the vivid imagery characteristic of comic books is escapism in its most perfect form, for while comics aren't as perpetual as film, they still drop the audience into the middle of the action, allowing for that space between panels to inspire more adventure and a sense of time and perspective, if the reader so chooses. Who could read a comic book and not want to fly alongside the Human Torch, or explore Earth's underbelly with Hellboy, or leap rooftop to rooftop with Shadowhawk?
So Kick-ass makes it happen. Just as Hamlet adopted the "play within a play" motif, or Seinfeld boasted "a show about nothing in a show about nothing" subplot, so too Kick-ass envisions an escapist fantasy within an escapist fantasy. Dave Lizewski insists that he's a regular high school -- he likes Scrubs and the Goo Goo Dolls, he fantasizes about his moderately attractive but irresistibly dominating biology teacher, and he is an old child raised by a single, hard-working father, since his mother died of an aneurysm. He and his friends like comics, too, and they swear like sailors. So, toss all of these incredibly mundane, relatively commonplace elements into the blender that is the adolescent mind via Mark Millar and John Romita, Jr., and we get a kid that buys a wet suit and walks on rooftops.
So where does the "kick ass" part come in? How 'bout when our young hero finally decides to engage the enemy, who is, in this case, some kids spraypainting the side of a building. For a few panels, I actually thought Lizewski was going to pull it off, that his self-fueled training and high protein diet would result in the skills necessary to take down three seemingly harmless punks. The knife to his gut, and the hit-and-run driver that smacked his already bloody frame across the street, quickly brought me back down to Earth. We already know that Dave will survive these injuries and experience further adventures, since this issue begins with a grim look into his crimefighting future, but these final seven pages do more harm to this series' title character than some superheroes experience in years' worth of stories.
For which I'm a little grateful, in case some kid picked up this book because of its eye-catching name and almost perceived it as a how-to guide for adolescent vigilantism.
So, yes, Millar tells an incredible story, though with a tagline like the one on this issue's cover, he has a little bit more work to do: "The Greatest Superhero Book of All Time is Finally Here!" John Romita, Jr., fresh from his stint on World War Hulk, is in incredible form, and Tom Palmer's inks capture Romita's characteristic cross-hatching, depth, and detail just as capably as longtime collaborator Klaus Janson. (Romita is obviously at his best when he shares a creative investment in the series, i.e. The Gray Area.) Heck, Romita has made his mark on almost all of Marvel's superhero stable, so it makes sense that he finally draws us, the fans, projected into the form of this Dave Lizewski kid. I couldn't help but notice Dean White's colors, too -- his work has a watercolor quality to it, creating a dreamy, almost filtered essence to every page. The hues are realistic and rich, yet also ethereal, as if this is the escapist fantasy we've all been having all along.
Well, except for the part where Kick-ass gets his ass kicked. At the end of my superhero fantasy I make out with the chick from church camp and get home in time for dinner. That wouldn't make much a comic, though, would it? Besides, without Millar's twist of the real world ramifications of superhero vigilantism, Kick-ass #1 would just be a comic we've all seen before anyway. In our own mind's eye.
C'mon . . . you know it's true!
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Star Trek: Voyager #1
Star Trek: Voyager #1, November 1996, Marvel Comics
writer: Laurie S. Sutton
artist: Jesus Redondo
letterer: Chris Eliopoulos
colorist: John Kalisz
editor: Bobbie Chase
EIC: Bob Harris
Blogger's note: Entry for Saturday, January 19, 2008.
On Saturday, January 19, I had the privilege to go where few fans have gone before. Star Trek: The Tour began its multi-city voyage in Long Beach, California this weekend, and my girlfriend scored me a pair of tickets for Christmas. Now, I've been an admitted Trekkie since I saw the Next Generation episode "Remember Me," which was actually an excellent jumping on point, considering Dr. Crusher's frantic recollections of the series' core characters as they seemingly disappear from existence. I was instantly fascinated by Roddenberry's idealistic future, and just as intrigued by the complexities of his characters, which have coincidentally been the dual, timeless strengths accounting for Trek's forty-year success in the first place. As a fledgling geek, I was hooked.
Alas, I hadn't mustered much interest for the original series, let alone Deep Space Nine and Voyager, until some years later, when The Next Generation went the way of "All Good Things . . ." and my life had a vividly Trek-shaped hole to fill. The "OS" will always have a special place in my heart as the bold series that started it all, but, thanks to my newly acquired DirecTV DVR, Voyager is rapidly becoming my second favorite of the franchise. Its concept takes the "boldly going" thing to a whole new level, stranding its characters in the distant, never explored Delta Quadrant, which also epitomizes a sense of isolation most Trek fans must feel from time to time. Sure, fan clubs and conventions offer Trekkies an exclusive sense of community, but where else can you wear your homemade Starfleet uniform? Who else will understand a statement like, "Come on, don't go all Quark on me with these prices!" Touring Star Trek around the country is the equivalent to touring a band everyone's heard of but only a few people will actually go and see.
So, what better way to celebrate the day than to review Star Trek: Voyager #1, the perfect combination of my Trekkie tryst and "number one issue" series? I own and have read a few TNG comics, mostly published by DC, but otherwise I've generally avoided Trek comics in the past, specifically because of the trappings presented in this Voyager #1. In this inaugural issue, Voyager and her crew attempt to help a Talaxian ship trapped in a dense asteroid field, and when their tractor beam fails in the face of the field's ionic storm, they venture forward to attempt a transporter evacuation. In the end, the Talaxians disappear, much to the Voyager crew's horror, but most likely to the aliens' delight, since their leader's "You know what to do" directive reveals a more sinister plan. Of course, this issue takes the entire twenty-two page story to get there, with a brief holodeck picnic interlude to establish a bit of characterization.
Unfortunately, even the asteroid field's ionic storm isn't enough to spark the kind of interest Captain Janeway and her crew deserve. The holodeck respite is an interesting interlude, and Lt. Paris's casual attitude is present and accounted for (calling Janeway their "fearless leader" in Raphael-to-Leonardo fashion), but the other characters are practically interchangeable in personality, simply sharing their mutual motivation to pass the time before they get home. The rest of the issue is primarily engineering jargon via dramatic character blocking and pseudo-suspenseful starship action, which normally works on my television screen . . . but not on the comic book page. I almost feel sorry for artist Jesus Redondo, as he tries his best to make Harry Kim look compelling, punching buttons at his ops station. He should be commended for capturing the look of each actor so well, while instilling a unique personification of their respective characters, to boot, but I wish he had more to work with. Tuvok swinging a baseball bat is a far cry from hand-to-hand combat with the Borg.
Really, for its first issue, that's what Voyager should have given us: each character's individual strengths in the face of a mutual adversary, versus this bridge-to-engineering formula that often works best for those filler TV episodes between the more plot-advancing epics. Yes, while I really like the Voyager TV series, I'm wondering how many episodes actually proactively tackle their attempts to get home? The frequent distractions are expected and necessary, and the persistent Borg threat is thrilling and fan-pleasing, but Victorian romps on the holodeck? Body-leeching alien parasites? Fun, fluffy filler between the real stuff, I say! When a comic book series starts with such fluff, you can speculate on how soon it will get home, I reckon.
Also, just another note of criticism: this issue's opening act two-page splash featured the Talaxian ship, not the Voyager. Further, any sequences featuring external views of the ship are entertaining, but not as effective as the real thing -- in other words, we see this stuff in comics all the time, so the "wow factor" is best saved for the screen. With a first issue hinging around Voyager "mounting" the Talaxian ship with its landing gear, I can't imagine a future issue featuring narrative from the Delta Flyer's point of view being too far behind, you know? (Yes, Voyager looks like she's humping the Talaxian ship. I know it's lonely out there in the Delta Quadrant, but come on!)
Needless to say, after experiencing much of the Trek universe firsthand thanks to Star Trek: The Tour, this issue had handicap from the get-go. Still, if the tour proved anything, it's Trek's ability to conquer any medium -- even comics. IDW is finally getting it right, and I can't wait to dive into its latest TNG miniseries, the first issue of which hit the stands last week. You can rest assured the ensigns in that series won't be wearing capes, like in DC's first TNG miniseries back in '88. Also, though I haven't read it yet, I'm betting the true charm of the series will come from its excavation of the characters' quirks and personalities. Indeed, the likes of Picard, Riker, Data, and the rest seem to offer as much vast possibilities as even the most uncharted reaches of space. That's where any Star Trek comic needs to boldly go if the franchise's timelessness is to remain intact.
Addendum: Here are a few Voyager-related pics from Star Trek: The Tour. A more comprehensive review of the tour will be posted at my other blog soon enough!
writer: Laurie S. Sutton
artist: Jesus Redondo
letterer: Chris Eliopoulos
colorist: John Kalisz
editor: Bobbie Chase
EIC: Bob Harris
Blogger's note: Entry for Saturday, January 19, 2008.
On Saturday, January 19, I had the privilege to go where few fans have gone before. Star Trek: The Tour began its multi-city voyage in Long Beach, California this weekend, and my girlfriend scored me a pair of tickets for Christmas. Now, I've been an admitted Trekkie since I saw the Next Generation episode "Remember Me," which was actually an excellent jumping on point, considering Dr. Crusher's frantic recollections of the series' core characters as they seemingly disappear from existence. I was instantly fascinated by Roddenberry's idealistic future, and just as intrigued by the complexities of his characters, which have coincidentally been the dual, timeless strengths accounting for Trek's forty-year success in the first place. As a fledgling geek, I was hooked.
Alas, I hadn't mustered much interest for the original series, let alone Deep Space Nine and Voyager, until some years later, when The Next Generation went the way of "All Good Things . . ." and my life had a vividly Trek-shaped hole to fill. The "OS" will always have a special place in my heart as the bold series that started it all, but, thanks to my newly acquired DirecTV DVR, Voyager is rapidly becoming my second favorite of the franchise. Its concept takes the "boldly going" thing to a whole new level, stranding its characters in the distant, never explored Delta Quadrant, which also epitomizes a sense of isolation most Trek fans must feel from time to time. Sure, fan clubs and conventions offer Trekkies an exclusive sense of community, but where else can you wear your homemade Starfleet uniform? Who else will understand a statement like, "Come on, don't go all Quark on me with these prices!" Touring Star Trek around the country is the equivalent to touring a band everyone's heard of but only a few people will actually go and see.
So, what better way to celebrate the day than to review Star Trek: Voyager #1, the perfect combination of my Trekkie tryst and "number one issue" series? I own and have read a few TNG comics, mostly published by DC, but otherwise I've generally avoided Trek comics in the past, specifically because of the trappings presented in this Voyager #1. In this inaugural issue, Voyager and her crew attempt to help a Talaxian ship trapped in a dense asteroid field, and when their tractor beam fails in the face of the field's ionic storm, they venture forward to attempt a transporter evacuation. In the end, the Talaxians disappear, much to the Voyager crew's horror, but most likely to the aliens' delight, since their leader's "You know what to do" directive reveals a more sinister plan. Of course, this issue takes the entire twenty-two page story to get there, with a brief holodeck picnic interlude to establish a bit of characterization.
Unfortunately, even the asteroid field's ionic storm isn't enough to spark the kind of interest Captain Janeway and her crew deserve. The holodeck respite is an interesting interlude, and Lt. Paris's casual attitude is present and accounted for (calling Janeway their "fearless leader" in Raphael-to-Leonardo fashion), but the other characters are practically interchangeable in personality, simply sharing their mutual motivation to pass the time before they get home. The rest of the issue is primarily engineering jargon via dramatic character blocking and pseudo-suspenseful starship action, which normally works on my television screen . . . but not on the comic book page. I almost feel sorry for artist Jesus Redondo, as he tries his best to make Harry Kim look compelling, punching buttons at his ops station. He should be commended for capturing the look of each actor so well, while instilling a unique personification of their respective characters, to boot, but I wish he had more to work with. Tuvok swinging a baseball bat is a far cry from hand-to-hand combat with the Borg.
Really, for its first issue, that's what Voyager should have given us: each character's individual strengths in the face of a mutual adversary, versus this bridge-to-engineering formula that often works best for those filler TV episodes between the more plot-advancing epics. Yes, while I really like the Voyager TV series, I'm wondering how many episodes actually proactively tackle their attempts to get home? The frequent distractions are expected and necessary, and the persistent Borg threat is thrilling and fan-pleasing, but Victorian romps on the holodeck? Body-leeching alien parasites? Fun, fluffy filler between the real stuff, I say! When a comic book series starts with such fluff, you can speculate on how soon it will get home, I reckon.
Also, just another note of criticism: this issue's opening act two-page splash featured the Talaxian ship, not the Voyager. Further, any sequences featuring external views of the ship are entertaining, but not as effective as the real thing -- in other words, we see this stuff in comics all the time, so the "wow factor" is best saved for the screen. With a first issue hinging around Voyager "mounting" the Talaxian ship with its landing gear, I can't imagine a future issue featuring narrative from the Delta Flyer's point of view being too far behind, you know? (Yes, Voyager looks like she's humping the Talaxian ship. I know it's lonely out there in the Delta Quadrant, but come on!)
Needless to say, after experiencing much of the Trek universe firsthand thanks to Star Trek: The Tour, this issue had handicap from the get-go. Still, if the tour proved anything, it's Trek's ability to conquer any medium -- even comics. IDW is finally getting it right, and I can't wait to dive into its latest TNG miniseries, the first issue of which hit the stands last week. You can rest assured the ensigns in that series won't be wearing capes, like in DC's first TNG miniseries back in '88. Also, though I haven't read it yet, I'm betting the true charm of the series will come from its excavation of the characters' quirks and personalities. Indeed, the likes of Picard, Riker, Data, and the rest seem to offer as much vast possibilities as even the most uncharted reaches of space. That's where any Star Trek comic needs to boldly go if the franchise's timelessness is to remain intact.
Addendum: Here are a few Voyager-related pics from Star Trek: The Tour. A more comprehensive review of the tour will be posted at my other blog soon enough!
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