Black Heart Billy trade paperback, $12.95 US, published by AiT/PlanetLar
Story & Art: Rick Remender, Kieron Dwyer, and Harper Jaten; Cover: Brian Wood
Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
Black Heart Billy is lunatic teenage skateboarding punk rocker with a robot head. But he wasn’t always that way. Formerly, he was a rather wussy teenage punk rocker with a very normal head. But during a fight in a mosh pit, Billy got his head knocked off. Yep, clean off his shoulders. Oi Boy, Billy’s less-than-brilliant friend, came up with the idea of preserving said head in a keg of beer. Along came a quack of a doctor who put Billy’s brain in a robot head and attached it to the body. Thus was born the hippie-bashing insanity of Black Heart Billy. Be afraid, be very afraid. Especially if you happen to like Jerry Garcia.
The brainchild of Rick Remender and Kieron Dwyer, Black Heart Billy is a twisted, sick, and often humorous read. It’s slightly less demented than their work on LCD. BHB originally appeared in a two issue series published by Slave Labor Graphics. This volume collects them, along with the material from the never-published issue #3, and the BHB strips that appeared in LCD. It’s “The Complete Adventures of Black Heart Billy,” so to speak.
There isn’t much of a plot to this. The main story, “Deadhead,” is a series of vignettes loosely strung together around the framework of Billy fighting against a Nazi/gangsta/hippie menace, all the while gleefully causing as much mayhem and destruction as possible. It’s completely over the top, and I found it simultaneously revolting and hysterical.
For instance, Billy’s behavior towards a pair of Jehovah’s Witness types who come knocking on his door early in the morning is utterly demented. But it might also be rather cathartic if, like me, you’ve ever spent twenty minutes trying to get rid of some guy running his mouth off while waving around a copy of Watchtower.
Similarly, Billy pummeling Deadheads, not to mention Remender & Dwyer’s treatment of Jerry Garcia in the story, is bound to draw the ire of many a Grateful Dead fan. I managed to derive some small satisfaction from it though. I knew a few Deadheads at college. Often they were the ones who threw late-night drinking binges in their dorm rooms. Them, and the jocks. Given a choice, I definitely chose to hang out with the Deadheads. It was actually pretty cool. Except when I was forced to listen to those aimless twenty minute long guitar solos on the CD player. So, as far as those memories go, Billy’s antics were pretty rewarding to me.
(Those dorm-room late-nights were also memorable for the God-awful beer we usually ended up drinking. It was this really inexpensive stuff called Meister Brau, or something like that. You could get a twelve pack of it for about four bucks at the local Grand Union. Believe me, it tasted every bit as cheap as it sounds! But those were the days of dorm life on a budget, y’know?)
The collaboration between Dwyer and Remender works very well. They have a distinctive art style, and show a lot of diversity in their work here. Hell, right now they are finishing up a year’s run on Avengers, a series that is very far removed from BHB. To call Dwyer and Remender flexible would be an understatement. Their art is equally at home in traditional superheroics as it is in scathingly irreverent satire and politically incorrect potty humor.
Joining Remender and Dwyer is Harper Jaten, who contributes two tales. The first, “Better Off Dead,” is a spoof on the rash of school shootings that were taking place a few years back. The disgruntled, gun-toting teenager in question is a whiny, spoiled brat who really doesn’t have a good reason to be going on a rampage, after all. In a lame attempt at originality, he decides to blow up the local CD shop instead of his school. Which sends him on a collision course with BHB and Oi Boy, who are busy browsing. This provides Jaten the opportunity to also take the piss on the popular music scene, something he does with gusto. Jaten’s art style on “Better Off Dead” is rather reminiscent of Art Adams’s work, with a detailed, precise linework to it.
On his second story, “BHB 2099,” Jaten thrusts Billy and Oi Boy a hundred years into the future, where they get into a feud with a virtual reality skateboarding champion. Jaten’s style is much looser here. His use of graytones and some distinctive collage work to give the art a very striking look. I was definitely impressed with his work in this one.
Topping the entire package off is a stylish cover by Brian Wood. That was a great idea, getting Wood to contribute to the book. He really gives the TPB package a memorable look. (See, just because I slagged off on certain aspects of Couscous Express doesn’t mean I hate the guy!)
Obviously Black Heart Billy is not for everyone. Hell, I certainly found certain aspects of it grotesque and offensive. At times Dwyer and Remender do go too far over the top. But, on the whole, BHB is a distinctive, humorous work. If you go in for very edgy, irreverent humor, you’ll probably get a kick out of it. Either that, or Billy will kick you in the head. One or the other, who can tell?
The Path #5, $2.95 US, published by CrossGen Comics
Writer: Ron Marz; Pencils & Inks: Walter Simonson
Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
In the past, I didn’t follow Walter Simonson’s work too regularly. But I enjoyed his writing and art on Orion for DC Comics, and was very disappointed when that series was canceled. Since then, I’ve been picking up whatever projects he’s been attached to, as I’ve developed a fondness for his work. I purchased the Just Imagine: Sandman book solely for Simonson’s art, even though I had previously decided that I wouldn’t be picking up any more of the Stan Lee books from DC at full price. Even though Lee’s writing on the Sandman issue was variable, it had some very nice work by Simonson.
So now Uncle Walt (as he is affectionately referred to on the Internet) provides a fill-in art job on one of CrossGen’s newest titles, The Path. And, despite the fact that I hadn’t purchased the first four issues of The Path, I picked up #5 for the Simonson artwork.
Actually, calling Simonson’s art for The Path #5 a “fill-in” is deceptive. That term seems to imply some sort of rushed, last-minute job that was thrown together to meet a looming deadline. But Simonson’s art on this issue is nothing short of stunning.
CrossGen supplies brief summaries of previous issues on their inside front covers. From this, I was easily able to pick up the back story of The Path. Some time in Earth’s past, (or on an Earth-like world, I’m nor sure which), the Emperor Mitsummune sought to acquire the “Weapon of Heaven,” a sword forged by dark gods. Recognizing that the Emperor should not possess the Weapon, the monk Obo-san fled with it, accompanied by his allies, Wulf and Akiko. Mitsummune dispatched an army, led by Obi-san’s former friend, Ryuichi, to retrieve the Weapon. As issue #5 opens, Obi-San and his companions are holed up in a monastery, surrounded by Ryuchi’s forces.
In the early morning hours, before Ryuchi resumes his siege, Obi-San and Wulf contemplate the forces arrayed against them from the shattered bridge leading to the monastery. It is an exquisitely illustrated sequence by Simonson. Writer Ron Marz wisely keeps the dialogue to a minimum on the first three pages, allowing Simonson’s work to establish the mood.
Pensively considering their present circumstances, Obi-San finds himself wondering how Wulf, a Viking turned Samurai, ended up in this land, far away from his home. Wulf relates his tale. Here the art becomes akin to an illuminated manuscript, as Simonson illustrates Wulf’s history. It is an extremely effective way in which to depict these past events.
The rich color work by Michael Atiyeh suits Simonson’s art perfectly. His choice of tones are well-considered. They especially enliven the backgrounds, giving them atmospheric textures.
The Path #5 was worth picking up for Walter Simonson’s magnificent work alone. Simonson has been working in the industry for more than a quarter of a century. Over time, he has sort of faded into the background, eclipsed by the rising stars of newer artists working on high-profile projects. But a look through this issue shows that Simonson is still in top form, producing some of the best work of his career. The flashback to Wulf’s past at first appears deceptively simplistic. But on further consideration, they reveal a distinctive narrative technique. And the framing sequences set in the present are rendered in stunning detail, almost in the manner of a panoramic vista.
As far as the actual story goes, Ron Marz does a good job. Without a thought out plot and decent characterization, there would be little more than a bunch of pretty pictures drawn by Simonson. I sorta felt that way about the Just Imagine: Sandman book. But Marz writes a good story for Simonson to illustrate. And, in the end, that’s what makes this a memorable issue.
The issue works as a self-contained tale that nevertheless is set within the framework of an ongoing story arc. This makes a good jumping on point for new readers. My interest is piqued enough that I might very well pick up the next issue of The Path to see how the story progresses.
Nowadays, with the increased focus on trade paperbacks and graphic novels, many monthly titles are often little more than individual chapters in longer stories that will eventually be collected together in one volume. After the lengthy slump in the industry, publishers obviously now need to have a more long-term approach to making money, and it makes sense to plan ahead for future TPB releases.
But for those of us who actually do still go to the comic shop each week, it can be frustrating to find that so much mainstream material has now become a chapter a month. Of course, I’m not going to forget that through much of the 1990s, the industry was plagued by unending subplots and gratuitous crossovers. In that regard, shifting to the view of producing stories with their eventual collection into TPB form is an improvement, as it means more of a focus on defined story endings. But it unfortunately also has caused something of a loss of the done-in-one issue, where a relatively self-contained story is told in the space of 22 pages, while simultaneously advancing the ongoing subplots and story arc. So it’s nice to see a book like The Path #5, which does achieve this.
The Vision #1, $2.99 US, published by Marvel Comics
Writer: Geoff Johns; Pencils: Ivan Reis; Inks: Joe Pimental; Cover: Brian Haberlin
Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars
And then there are individual issues that fail to work as a complete unit, serving solely as but one chapter in a larger story. The first issue of The Vision miniseries is an unfortunate example of this.
This first issue opens on August 31st 1939, at the World’s Fair in New York City. There, Professor Phineas T. Horton has on display his prototype android. Unfortunately for Horton, the android has the inexplicable tendency to burst into flames when activated. As long time Marvel readers know, the completed android becomes the original Human Torch, and eventually is transformed into the Vision (check out Avengers Forever #8 for the whole, long explanation behind that). Of course, all this is in the future, and at this point Horton has no idea of his creation’s destiny. All Horton knows is that he cannot seem to control his android, and that until he can, he won’t achieve the scientific prestige and respect that he seeks. Horton also finds another cause for concern: a vital piece of the technology he developed is snatched from right under his nose by an agent of the Third Reich.
Flash forward to the present. A young kid named Derek has just moved to New York City with his father, a career Air Force officer who is constantly being transferred from location to location. With few friends, and a distant relationship with his father, Derek finds solace on the Internet and in magazines about paranormal events. After an argument with his father, Derek sneaks off to the now-abandoned, dilapidated site of the 1939 World’s Fair. There he encounters a strange apparition, a ghostly entity that finally materializes in the half-solid form of the Vision.
Aaaaand… that’s it! Twenty-two pages and three bucks later, that is all this issue gives us. A bare-bones prologue, and just the merest of hints where the rest of the miniseries might possibly be going. Nothing more. I was certainly disappointed.
As I mentioned in my review of The Path #5, I have always been of the opinion that each chapter or installment in a miniseries or story arc ought to have at least one aspect of it that stands alone. It should not read merely like one chapter in a novel. A graphic novel can be constructed to unfold at a leisurely pace, as it is a done-in-one deal. But a miniseries needs to be handled differently. Even if the intended goal of the publisher is to assemble the full story into trade paperback form as soon as possible, initially the book is being released in a multi-issue, monthly format. Allowances must be made that, yes, while sooner or later this story will be one long novel, initially it is going to appear in the form of a four part monthly serial. Therefore, each issue should be regarded not only as part of a larger work, but as an independent unit that also must stand and fall on its own merits.
Regrettably that is not the case with The Vision #1. This is twenty-two pages of set-up. If this had been the first quarter of a graphic novel, that would have been acceptable. But it isn’t a graphic novel. It’s a monthly, four issue miniseries. And even though it will probably be collected in trade paperback form at some point in the future, right here and now it is being released in four distinct units, with a 30 day wait between each of them. That should definitely have been taken into account when the structure and pacing of the story was planned out by Geoff Johns.
I feel bad passing judgment on this book after only the first chapter. And I don’t want to single The Vision out. These problems of format are becoming more and more prevalent in the mainstream comic book industry, as publishers change their emphasis from the monthly serial format to the trade paperback market. As I’ve said on various occasions, this is a positive development. However, the accompanying confusion of this transition period has resulted in many series that have an uncertainty as to their nature. Are they to be made up of separate monthly installments that hang together via cliffhangers and such? Or are they meant to be taken as a whole, read in one go?
The Vision typifies this confusion, as it audibly speaks of an industry with one foot stepping towards the future, but the other still rooted in the past. This story really seems like it should have been presented as a graphic novel, and not a miniseries. It seems that Marvel wants it to be both, but it isn’t working that way. At least, not so far.
Believe me, such a product is not an impossibility. The previous Avengers “Icons” entry, Tigra, was also published as a four issue miniseries. But each of those four issues had a certain well-rounded quality to them. The issues were all part of a larger tale, but they each contained a rather whole and complete segment of that story. I admit, I did have certain other problems with the writing on Tigra. But as far as fitting the miniseries format goes, it worked fine. So it can be done. I wish Geoff Johns had done so. Hopefully future issues will be more fulfilling than this one.
Actually, there are certain strengths to this first issue of The Vision, signs that the next three chapters hold promise.
The 1939 World’s Fair offered up a glimpse of an idealized future, something right out of the pulp sci-fi novels of the day, with promises of flying cars and mile-high skyscrapers. Geoff Johns offers an interesting juxtaposition in the story, presenting this vision of utopia against the backdrop of events in Europe, where the bleak reality of devastating warfare was just around the corner.
Johns, with the aid of Ivan Reis’ dramatic artwork, also effectively conveys the contrast between the bright future represented at the Fair in 1939 and the very real future of the present day. The dreams of yesterday are put side-by-side with the realities of today.
Speaking of Reis’ art, he does some superb work here. I’ve underestimated his talent and ability in the past. Most of his work has been for Chaos Comics’ various “bad girl” horror titles. But in his recent work for Marvel, it’s become evident that Reis can draw more than just boobs and blood. He shows a well-developed sense of storytelling here in this first issue. The distinct coloring by Chris Sotomayor helps the art to establish various distinct atmospheres.
So, my advice: wait until all four issues of this series are out, and then read them in one sitting. Or, if you want to take a chance and hold out longer, you can wait and see if it does indeed get collected as a trade paperback. But reading it in a piecemeal, monthly fashion is only going to detract from your enjoyment of the story.
Have any questions? Comments? Death threats? All of the above? Feel free to e-mail me. The address is ben_herman@hotmail.com.