I’m not buying an iPad anytime soon. I’m broke, and unemployed, and a general douchebag. It would be a complete luxury item.

That said.

Via CBR:

On Saturday morning, Mac fans, tech heads and curious members of the public alike will doubtlessly line up in some form or fashion to be the first people to buy Apple’s new iPad device. Though while the new keyboardless computer will carry many apps built for its paper-sized screen from ebooks to video games, the question on most comic fans minds since its announcement in January has been when comics will be made available for download. And tonight, a first answer to that query came with the news that Marvel Comics will have a launch app ready for the iPad’s first week on sale, produced by comiXology.

OH GOOD GOD, MARVEL COMICS ON IT!?

Just the concept alone makes me tingly in the groin. I don’t even know if I would use it for that, but the idea alone makes me hot. I love my comic book shop, and I love tangibly owning comics, so I’m pretty torn. But if I could supplement my weekly trip the shop with some splurging in the middle of the night on a random comic?

Good fucking god.

I’m man-wet.

Pulphope, holding in his hand the first one hundred pages of Battling Boy. I’ve been waiting for this book for a couple of years now, so to see such a tease pop up on his Flickr got me all sorts of hot’n’bothered.

The general premise of Battling Boy: the son of some sort of god/superhero has to come down from the mythical mountain to beat monster butt. Fairly simple story, with art to make the jaw-drop. The artist has hinted that this is going to be an unrestrained opus, with fight scenes taking up fifty pages at times.

Mr. Pope, feel free to bind those pages and send them to me via FedEx.

[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

Spoilers Ahead. Forreal.

In a strange way, I had hoped that Nemesis wouldn’t end up getting the Images & Words spotlight. The reality is that I’m a Mark Millar fanboy and so is Caffeine Powered. On top of that, we’re particularly fond of the writer’s collaborations with Steve McNiven, such as Civil War and Old Man Logan. With these comic book Mega Powers reuniting, we’ve been ranting and raving for months about how sick Nemesis is lining up to be. Which, to be completely candid, calls our objectivity into question.

Hell, the OL wad might’ve already been shot — there’ve been two posts about the comic before I could even get my grubby, powdered-sugar dusted hands on it. With this much hype, picking Nemesis as the week’s top comic seemed like a foregone conclusion. And I didn’t want to know which comic released on Wednesday was best before reading them. I wanted to sit down with my stack of funnies and say, “Let’s see who wows me!”

In fact, I even said, “Maybe Nemesis won’t even be that good. Maybe Millar’s played out. Maybe the new Streets of Gotham is going to rise to the occasion. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have acted a damn fool.

The first chapter of Nemesis is fucking awesome. As promised, Millar delivers an ultra-violent, wonderfully vulgar twist on the billionaire-superhero archetype. The reader gets to see what would happen if someone had all of the resources and ambition of Bruce Wayne, but not a single ounce of his altruism. Matt Anderson is the end product of replacing the philanthropic sentiments with sheer lunacy, and then stripping away every good intention so that they can be raped in the bathroom of an abandoned bowling alley. He is the Nemesis.

The titular character hunts for sport. But, as a maniac, he conducts his very own rendition of The Most Dangerous Game; he finds the best law enforcement officers in the world and then sends them a card that tells them exactly when they are going to be murdered. This game that Anderson plays is both incredibly cerebral and shockingly destructive. Not only does this predator toy with his prey, savoring the moments leading up to the killing stroke, but he makes sure to make a spectacle of the event as well.

In the opening sequence, Nemesis reminds a Japanese inspector of all the recent crimes he has failed to prevent. He then informs his target that the men coming to the rescue are on time, but two miles away — in a hotel that Nemesis has rigged with explosions. Then, in a grand twist, the inspector realizes that he is bound to a chair that is on a train track; not only is he killed by the oncoming transport, but the train derails as wreckage from the hotel bombing interferes with the train line. This is the undiluted, masterfully-executed plan of a homicidal genius.

Opposing Nemesis in this series is Blake Morrow, the thematic equivalent of Jim Gordon. The reader is introduced to the Washington D.C. Chief of Police as he shotgun blasts a bunch of crack-heads that have taken hostages in their attempt to hold up a convenience store. This dude is the archetypal old man bad ass, the aging dude who has paid his dues but still isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Take for instance, this exchange with younger officers;

Officer: What the Hell? How’d you even get in here, Chief?

Morrow: Well, crack-heads tend not to count their hostages, son. I just wandered in the back door wearing a baseball cap.

Sergeant Lee: You are something else, boss. I had your job, I wouldn’t come near this shit.

Morrow: Language, please, Sergeant Lee. We’re supposed to be an example here.

Of course, Morrow isn’t one to piss his pants when he gets the death-sentence card from Nemesis. Instead, he remains calm and decides to put together a plan to take on the world’s only supervillian. Which is even more impressive when the reader realizes that this is an impossible task — to prove his dominance, Nemesis hijacks and crashes Air Force One. He then televises his challenge to Morrow, informing the public that “It’s time you hailed your new fucking Chief” as the President of the United States kneels before him beaten and whimpering.

Thus far, the most intriguing aspect of Nemesis is that I’m not sure who I’m rooting for yet. I’m not even sure if the reader is supposed to favor one character over another, as Millar introduces Matt Anderson as Player One and Blake Morrow as Player Two. Perhaps this is all just a game to sit back and enjoy, not worrying ourselves with getting too invested in either side. In effect, both players can be lauded for their respective supremacy.

Yes, Matt Anderson is a fucking lunatic whose atrocities would never be praised in reality. But this is comics. And moreover, the character has a swagger about him, exuding a confidence and fuck you attitude that most of us wish we had a little more of. And to top it all off, Millar intimates that Anderson has some sort of troubled past, as the character declares,

“Washington shall suffer just like Tokyo before it, but my new campaign has a personal touch. Call it revenge for a stolen childhood. The black sheep of the Anderson family has returned to burn these idiots who believe that you protect them.”

Even if you end up hating Matt Anderson, I have a feeling that you are going to love to hate him.

I genuinely think I could read Millar’s script and be on the edge of my seat. Fortunately, I don’t have to, as the mighty Steve McNiven rocks that shit out of this book. The highlights include three splash pages, two of which I foresee becoming requisite posters for every comics shop. Seriously, within the first issue McNiven’s visuals help convince the reader that Matt Anderson is a bad, bad man.

The only other note pertaining to the art is that I perceive a slight difference between Nemesis and McNiven’s other work. In this book, some of the art seems to have more lines. It’s not as sketchy as Leinil Yu’s art (which I adore), but keeps a sincerity that is sometimes inked right over. The art speaks as though it is proud of itself, and not as a comic that desperately wishes it were a movie or television show. Again, I know very little about formal art, so take that for what it’s worth.

Nemesis #1 is a sick book. You should read it if you like any of the following:

Superheroes

Supervillians

Explosions

Die Hard

Swear Words

Sick Art

Guns

Old Dudes Who Beat Ass

Condemnations of Society

Crack-Heads Getting Shot

Ultra-Violence

Cool Shit

I’m fairly certain that Pepsibones is going to write about Nemesis tomorrow for Images & Words. But I’ve been too stoked about it since reading it this afternoon not to vomit some love. Let me just say this! Isn’t that like, always the sentence you use before prattling on for fifteen paragraphs? Anyways.

Let me just say this!

When I finished reading it, I flipped it to Pepsibones and summarized the comic in one statement:

This thing is retarded in all the right ways.

I was giggling at ultra-violence and perversity like I was…well, pretty much any age throughout my depraved life.

[Variant Covers is a column every Tuesday that breaks down the various titles coming out that week in the world where Mark Millar continues to redefine absurdly awesome ultra-violence.]

Nemesis #1

Ohhhhh, fuck to the yes. Nemesis is dropping the week. Finally. Mark Millar’s latest license to print money is hitting the shelves and I’m already hyper-ventilating like the fanboy pig that I am. I’ve been waiting for this son of a bitch since it was announced, and now that it’s upon me, I’m geeking out. Let me tell you something. If my boy down at the comic shop forgets to pull me a copy of this I’m going to freak the fuck out. In something of a Hulkian rage, I may or may not flip several shelves and eat as many action figures I can before I asphyxiate and die. Just saying.

The premise is so fucking simple and obvious, even Mark Millar has admitted it’s borderline ridiculous to actually pull off as a title. Millar poses the question, what if a Batman analog was a bad guy? What if a billionaire playboy with all the sweet-ass kung fu moves and guns he could acquire, set out to kill the equivalent of Commissioner Gordon? Either you’re totally fucking stoked about this…or you’re a pretentious windbag. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I still fart towards you.

It’s a little bit of deconstruction this side of the sort of shit that Warren Ellis did with his Batman and Superman derivatives in The Authority, or his work in pretty much deconstructing every superhero archetype in The Planetary. But I think this will be a little more on the visceral, and a little less on the cerebral side. So instead of working out the essence of characters, I assume he’s just going to have lots of bludgeoning and ultra-violence. Absolutely fucking fine by me. I just spent an entire week examining freudian interpretations of Mary Shelley’s Mathilda for class. I’m ready for phallic objects blasting people into mush. Wait, that sounds freudian too. Fuck.

Millar already knows this is going to be a hit. Dude’s already planning a movie. Between Kick-Ass and this, I imagine soon he’ll be bathing in hundred-dollar bills and the alcoholic beverage of his choice. I’m there, dude.

Captain America #604

There’s like nineteen Captain Americas running around right now. There’s Steve Rogers back from the timestream, there’s Bucky back from being a Russian spy, and then there’s William Burnside, a schizophrenic raised to believe he’s Captain America. That’s roughly one for every Avengers title that Marvel is launching after the culmination of Siege. Rimshot, groans from the audience. But no, seriously. What the fuck is going on.

Brubaker continually brings the awesome. And that’s the reason a storyline about Bucky hunting down the aforementioned William Burnside in some yokel town works so damn well. Our boy Burnside, posing as Captain America, is leading a paramilitary group determined to “reclaim” America. A couple of issues ago Brubaker and company got into a bruhaha when someone penciled in some salacious shit onto a sign that was in a scene depicting a Tea Party protest. Being a hippy and a liberal, I wasn’t offended. But Fox News damn near shit their pants so hard, they didn’t just soil his pants, they soiled yours.

I’m digging on the storyline though. If Captain America is a representation of the ideals of our country, where better to examine the clash between the various factions and their competing narratives for what this country is and should stand for? I’ve always had a vague fear that Captain America, while standing for the right things, has actually been an instrument for you know, the dirty fascists that run this corporate empire. Oh shit, I’m kidding about that, okay? For the most part. Captain America as a fascist mouthpiece? It could be worse, he could be portrayed by Chris Evans in the movie. Wait. Fuck.

So hop into this shit this week, and join the examination. It’s got ideological battles, the Falcon, and some really boss action. Yeah, I said boss.

Keep Reading »

[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

Spoilers Ahead. Forreal.

For some unintelligible reason, I usually try to write Images & Words from some sort of objective standpoint. You know, playing make believe that I’m a real journalist or some shit. As though Rich Johnston is going to stumble onto OL and hook us up with jobs or cash or booze or cigarettes. Or something.

But this week I’m stripping away the poorly constructed façade. In its place, I am presenting a full-on, irrational, half-baked fanboy diatribe. So while I generally try to curb the off-putting nerd excitement with cold, logical premises and a forward-moving train of thought, this Images & Words is all about cuttin’ loose.

So without further adieu…Siege #3 is goddamn wonderful.

The third issue of this mini series is a direct continuation of the first two; Norman Osborn’s piece-of-shit government agency is attempting to take down Asgard. It’s a bunch of bullshit, trying to evict Thor, so of course the benevolent warriors of the 616 form a resistance.

This edition of Siege comes out swinging — the second and third pages form a huge splash of about twenty characters. Oh, and I shouldn’t neglect to mention that most of these superheroes are tagging along with Steve Rogers as he screams Avengers Assemble! for the first time in years. The cynic in me wants to scoff at this, give it the middle finger and complain about the fact that every Marvel character seems lined up to be an Avenger (or one of the X-Men).

But I can’t stop myself from smiling. It is fucking sweet to see Steve Rogers teaming up with old friends (especially Bucky), getting together to stomp a mudhole in some villainous ass.

The second highlight exposes itself as Iron Man returns to duty. Having recently been drawn out of a coma during Stark: Disassembled, Tony Stark has to lay the smackdown on Norman Osborn. Using some sort of techno-gadget-wizardry, he overrides the Iron Patriot armor, revealing an Osborn who is in the midst of Goblin-dementia.

But Siege #3 succeeds most in what it doesn’t resolve. Whereas some bust their nuts with the penultimate issue, reserving the final comic for clean-up, this miniseries leaves the reader wanting more. At this point, Thor has gone toe-to-toe with the Sentry but did not fell him. Of course, this just pisses off the Sentry even more, inducing a sort of super-psychotic super-powered state (suck that alliteration, Stan Lee). This is a terrible disposition for a guy who, in the middle of this comic, earnestly asks “How many Gods will I have to kill today?”

Asgard’s in ruins. Norman Osborn has been defeated. The Sentry is on the loose, manic as ever. But hope is not lost, as Earth’s Mightiest Heroes are finally BFFs again, and willing to rise to the challenge.

Siege #3 is fanboy fodder, delivering in bulk the type of superheroics that have become the staple of an entire medium. And although this isn’t always a good thing, in this case it is. This is the type of funnybook that I’d love to hand to any member of a future Krueger generation and say, “Hey, kid, read this — it’s about superheroes and shit. You’ll love it.”

[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

Bruce Wayne has been dead for about a year now. During this time, Grant Morrison has unfurled one of the most interesting imaginings of the Batman mythology in years, letting Dick Grayson rock the cowl and having Damian fulfill role of Robin. It’s been refreshing to see typically static characters further developed, pushed into areas that drives some fanboys into genuine nerd rage. Yeah, it’s been great to see fans breaking down, screaming, “But…but, Bruce is Batman, not Richard…Because…that’s how it’s been…and…well, see…you CAN’T CHANGE THE STORY! BECAUSE I’VE NEVER SQUEEZED A TITTY! AND A RESPECT FOR SIXTY YEARS OF CONTINUITY IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING A BULLET FROM MY BRAIN!!!”

One might be inclined think that a comic whose cover advertises “The Return of Bruce Wayne Begins Here!” would really cheese me off. But Batman and Robin #10, the comic touting just that, is actually quite enjoyable. The book is a well put together balancing act, laying an early foundation for the return of the original Caped Crusader while still playing with the currently assembled cast. Since superheroes never manage to stay dead for long, the best one can hope for is a reanimation that still progresses the mythos.

With Batman and Robin #10, Morrison runs the characters through the unavoidable emotional gamut that comes with bringing loved ones back from the dead. On one hand, Dick is eager to snatch Bruce Wayne out of the abyss, snacking on every morsel of a lead he finds in his investigations. After all, Wayne is the guy that saved his life, offering him a home and a purpose after his parents got capped.

On the other hand, Damian is a bit more hesitant to welcome his father back to the land of the living. But when you look at it from his perspective, the reservations make sense. First of all, Damian never really had a great relationship with his father. Moreover, if Bruce Wayne were to reassume the Batman responsibilities, Damian would be SOL; Dick Grayson can go back to being Nightwing, but the younger Wayne has nothing to fall back on. He can’t go even go back to his crimelord mama, as he had to defy her to even keep his job as Robin.

When it’s not ruminating about feelings, Batman and Robin #10 has got some sick, kooky-ass comic book shit to keep you flipping pages. There are newly discovered secret passages in Wayne Manor. There are goofy bad guys, showing up just a second too late to get Batman’s mysterious ally. Oh, there are some strong hints (I smell red herring) that aforementioned ally is actually the already-returned Bruce Wayne. Also, time travel is involved in one way or another. I think.

The issue is peniclled by Andy Clarke and inked by Scott Hanna, whose combined efforts come across as an imitation of Frank Quitely. Which is fine, really, since Quitely started this series and is one of my favorite current artists. Clarke and Hanna are pretty much par for the Batman and Robin course, never particularly wowing me but certainly not disappointing me either. Again, I’d love to see Frank Quitely do every issue of the series, but I prefer this pair to former pencillers like Philip Tan and Cameron Stewart.

With its vibrant colors and bubbly approach to a morbid topic, Batman and Robin #10 is damn fun. Yes, I used the three-letter word that is to be avoided at all costs, but that’s what pops up when I think of this comic book. Grant Morrison is proving, once again, that comic books don’t have to be gritty, macabre spectacles in order to be entertaining.

Sometimes the light hearted approach is best.

[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

Looking ahead to the Wednesday releases, I assumed that First Wave #1 was going to earn the honor of OL’s pick-of-the-week. Set outside of the standard DC continuity, this title takes place in some ambiguous past, a pre-retro time of gumshoes and vigilantes. Without being bogged down by a litany of mandated superheroes and superteams, writer Brian Azzarello gets to showcase the more human qualities of Doc Savage, the Spirit and the Batman. Three bad asses who genuinely enjoy effing ess up.

And if this weren’t enough to induce pleasure-overload in the fanboy population, the series is being drawn by Rags Morales. This is the dude who did the pencils for Identity Crisis, one of the most personal and emotionally redolent superhero series I’ve ever read. He’s a great artist, but has recently done one book after another that I couldn’t care less about. Until now, that is.

First Wave #1 is an excellent comic book and I strongly suggest you snag a copy. Unless, of course, you don’t like a solid mystery story, artwork that convinces you to spend a few minutes on each page, great characterization, or good shit in general. If you’re willing to buy two comic books this week, make sure that this is one of them.

But if you’re only going to pick up one comic book this week, there is no better choice than Ultimate Avengers #5.

In case you don’t have a clue what any of this means, let me bring you up to speed. Ultimate Avengers is Mark Millar’s latest foray into Marvel Comics’ Ultimate universe, essentially updating and reimagining the Avengers. This series sees Nick Fury and Hawkeye initiating Project Avengers in an attempt to institute order after some near-apocalyptic catastrophe. With so many heroes dead or out of commission, readers are treated to some interesting twists on fan-favorite characters such as Tony Stark’s supercilious sibling Gregory and a genetically manufactured Nerd Hulk. It’s sick.

But perhaps the best wrench being thrown in the gears of Marvel continuity is Mark Millar’s approach to the Red Skull. In the Ultimate universe, Red Skull is the illegitimate son of Steve Rogers. Raised by a pack of government goons while Steve was stuck in suspended animation, Junior went totally bananas and decided that killing was a hobby he’d enjoy. Combining the physical prowess of his papa with an insatiable thirst for blood, this Red Skull is a (more than) formidable threat.

So, naturally, Steve Rogers wants to be the man to take him down. And this manhunt is what the book is all about…but insane. Basically, take whatever you’re imagining this book to be and force-feed it a six pack of Mountain Dew.

Ultimate Avengers #5 is just out of control. While Millar has used creator-owned properties to do whatever he damn well pleases, I think this comic might prove that he has been given total free reign. Pencilled by the fantastic Carlos Pacheco, this issue has some scenes so brutal that I was honestly shocked to find them in a mainstream comic. For instance, the first panel treats the reader to infanticide. And then, two pages later, an entire splash-page is dedicated to the assassination of JFK. Oh, and who could forget those panels that show the aftermath of forced cannibalism?

Reading these descriptions back to myself, I realize that this comic might seem gratuitously violent. But, really, it isn’t. Ok, that’s a lie — it is. Hell, peppered in between all of the aforementioned images are full-blown fight scenes. With that being said, the visual vulgarity of Ultimate Avengers #5 is irresistibly entertaining. Any time that I said exclaimed Holy shit! it was always closely trailed by that’s awesome!

I cannot understate the prowess of Mark Millar. This guy is firing on all cylinders, creating comics that are not only entertaining in the same way as action movies, but also filled with fresh perspectives that reinvigorate time-worn characters. It’s not just explosions, boobs & butts, and fight scenes — the madness is always anchored by a novel idea or two. And, more important, authentic sentiment.

I make no qualms about shelling out four bucks for a Millar book and neither should you. This week, the team of Millar/Pacheco/Vines have officially reached the Omega Level

[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

Sometimes impulse purchases work out for the best. Other times, they don’t. This week, I’d like to share a story in which tossing down four bucks for an unfamiliar product ended up being a good idea.

A damn good idea.

Just like every Wednesday, I walked into the comic book store looking forward to snagging all sorts of goofy shit. Again, I know how ludicrous these books can be, but anticipating their release helps get me through the week. Reading them, on the other hand, helps me forget about the week altogether. Clearly, it’s a marriage made in Escapist Heaven. So it goes without saying, I picked up all of my favorite books that feature body builders with super powers, mind-numbing exposition and overly-sexualized women.

In addition to this mindrot, I also snagged Choker #1. Originally slated for release two weeks ago, the first issue of this six-part series comes out swinging. What we find out in this first issue is that over-the-hill private investigator Johnny Jackson is finally being offered a chance to regain his position on the city’s police force. Of course, this means he must appease the insidious chief of police by tracking down Hunt Cassidy, the man he locked up years ago.

Does this seem like another Crime Story Paint by Numbers? Sure. But Choker pulls it off, setting the story in the quasi-dystopian Shotgun City. Perhaps taking a page out of Spider Jerusalem’s playbook, Jackson has these kind words to say about his city:

Jesus. This place stinks worse than my office.

Devo-fucking-lution, how we’ve embrace you.

We’re living in one big melting pot of futility and folly, and somehow it continues to flourish.

There’s not a thing I can do about it.

Not anymore.

Mutiny has ravaged the ship and we’re slowly sinking. Not even the sharks will want to eat us.

Maybe I’m a sucker for a pessimistic, pissed-at-the-world detective. Maybe I think it’s an archetype I’ll always fall for. Maybe I just wish I could be one myself (a detective that is).

Definitely.

And while writer Ben McCool’s script certainly places Choker within the world of interesting narrative, it’s artist Ben Templesmith that cannon-launches it onto Mount Bad Ass Comic Book. This guy has done a ton of sick shit, such as 30 Days of Night and Warren Ellis’ (unfortunately delayed) Fell. However, I really think that Templesmith is upping the ante with his new series, and the readers are going to reap all the benefits.

Thus far, the artwork of Choker is nothing short of inspiring. Templesmith’s neat & tidy approach to panel layout keeps the story moving without the necessity of pausing to ask What the fuck is going on? With that being said, the contents of these panels are quite atmospheric in nature, creating a dark world that always seems to be clouded over. Templesmith then creates a balance, as he paints Shotgun City with vibrant neon colors. As a result, he generates a sharp urban contrast between progression and regression that harkens back to Bladerunner.

Choker #1 has proven to be the best four-dollar investment I have blindly made this week (and yes, I’ve made a few). Even without any text, this book would be worth your cash money. In a way, the fact that the story McCool has begun to unveil is actually rad, well that’s just icing on the cake.

[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

Joe the Barbarian is a mindfuck. A powerful, yet sweet, mindfuck that leaves the reader gasping for breath and begging for more. I have no doubt that those readers who prefer the pump-and-dump style of narrative-coitus are going to dismiss Joe the Barbarian as just another example of Grant Morrison’s insanity.

Two issues in, I’m inclined to disagree. While starting a bit slow, Joe the Barbarian definitely feels as though it’s working towards something beautiful. Sure, it’s still incredibly unclear whether the protagonist is actually engaged in a cross-dimensional journey or if he’s just hallucinating/imagining the whole ordeal (I’d guess the latter), but that’s of little consequence at this point. All that matters is that Joe is genuinely invested in his quest, thereby capturing the readers’ attention.

Fuck, I’ve done it again — I’ve somehow started reviewing a comic book without even explaining its damn premise. Hell, maybe I should’ve taken a journalism course or some shit (see: poor excuse). Or, I could just delete these three sentences, but that would somehow seem dishonest.

Anyways, this second issue of Joe the Barbarian picks up right where the first left off, with Joe seeking refuge in his childhood action figures after a rough day. How rough was this day? Well, Joe was given the impression by his mom that their house might be on the brink of foreclosure, he was bullied by a pack of goons, and he spent a bit of time brooding about his dead father. Yikes. But with the help of the action figures in his attic, Joe is transported to an alternate reality. An alternate reality that, according to these toys, Joe must save from total destruction

Throughout the second issue, Joe (referred to as “The Dying Boy” by one especially ominous action figure) begins to make his journey out of the attic and towards the rest of the house. At times, the readers are given glimpses of what Joe is really doing –  this either  puts his epic journey in perspective or creates a greater contrast between the world as most see it and as it is seen by the hero. Again, this makes the reader ask some important questions; did Joe really break an anthropomorphic-rat-warrior named Chakk out of jail, or did he just let his pet rat Jack out of its cage? Is Lord Arc actually an outcast who once ruled a throne of light, or is Joe  talking to a lightning storm? Is Joe a chosen warrior, or is he just a hypoglycemic teen in desperate need of a candy bar?

Even if definitive answers are never delivered, the expedition from which they arise is worthwhile in its own right. Although I’m going to give writer/creator Grant Morrison his fair share of credit (yes, sometimes his madness is genius and not the other way around), I think Joe the Barbarian is truly successful because of artist Sean Murphy. As mundane and realistic as Murphy depicts Joe’s house, it’s Narnia-ified counterpart is twice as fantastic. Two-page spreads of life-size action figures in the midst of war are perfectly executed, as are skyscapes with impossible airships and  stunning crescent moons. I’m not familiar with Murphy’s body of work, but his performance on Joe the Barbarian is bound to etch a place in my (admittedly depleted) brain-bank.

And although it’s a damn shame I’m putting this individual last (and am too lazy to edit this post so that  he’s first), a big-ups is due to colorist Dave Stewart. As well as Murphy illustrates rat warriors and giant flaming skulls that hang ethereally, Stewart pounds on their chests and brings them to life. So while the night skies of Joe’s fantasy world  evoke a sense astonishment, it is  the faded purple hue  that enables them to breathe and live. I really think Stewart may be outdoing his best work with Joe the Barbarian.

Joe the Barbarian #2 is just wonderful. With the interplay between fantasy and reality (ala Wizard of Oz or Chronicle of Narnia), this is a book that can be enjoyed by all ages. It’s one of those rare finds, a  story that’s innocent enough for children but mature enough to entertain adults.

You’d be a fool to not give this comic a shot.