|
ON OUR RADAR // 1.09.03 Hawaiian Dick • Miranda • Raven HAWAIIAN
DICK #1 There is, to my mind, no greater creation of pulp fiction than the Private Investigator. Think about it, no other stereotype has that amount of built in conflict or that combination of tragedy and honour. When was the last time 'Scientist who Explains the Plot' sacrificed his own happiness for someone he could never be with? Or 'Heroic G-Man' got a phone call telling him the rent was late? The Private Dick, my friends, is the only one who walks the line between tragedy and honour and does so voluntarily. Admittedly, sometimes they do so in a dreadful moustache, a particularly bad hat or whilst pregnant but the same basic principle remains the same. Like the man said: Down these mean streets a lonely man must walk, who is not himself mean. I cannot begin to describe how much B. Clay Moore gets this. From the first time we see his main character, Byrd, it becomes obvious that Moore understands how characters like these work. First seen sitting along in his house, with what is almost certainly jazz music floating gently around him Byrd looks equal parts Phillip Marlowe and Thomas Magnum. There's an indefinable cool to him that comes from the same well as Bud White in LA CONFIDENTIAL. Dishevelled, flawed and impossible to ignore as a result. Moore hits all the right beats with Byrd whilst still managing to make him something more than the stereotype. This is particularly true in the scenes between Byrd and Mo Kalama, his best friend and a Hawaiian PD detective. The scenes between the two crackle with the sort of unhurried, confident banter that's as funny as it is intricate. There's also a welcome hint of moral ambiguity with Mo cheerfully using the same excessive force that seems to have got Byrd thrown off the police force in the first place. Both men are stock characters but they're dealt with with such style and confidence that they can't fail to be entertaining. However, if all HAWAIIAN DICK was was an essay in style then it wouldn't work. Moore has written a script which is equal parts film noir and, apparently, supernatural thriller. Whilst the latter is surely the most over-used literary genre of the moment, it works very well here. By using elements of Hawaiian mythology, Moore has written something which, based on this first issue, really could go in either direction. It could become out and out supernatural horror or it could simply be a crime story with noir trappings. At this stage, either looks fun and either looks possible. Finally, special mention has to be made of Steve Griffin's art. Expressive, detailed and apparently painted it gives HAWAIIAN DICK a richness and texture that very few books published in America has. From the opening, silent carjacking to the scene featuring Byrd, Kalama, a postbox, a car and an informant it creates a world which is humid, lush and richly detailed. This is the flat out prettiest comic published by Image in months, and when you look at some of the artists they have on board, that's praise indeed. Ultimately, HAWAIIAN DICK is perfect pop culture entertainment. Fast paced, funny and with a deep seated understanding of the genre, Moore and Griffin have produced something special. Wonderful stuff. (Alasdair
Stuart) MIRANDA
#1 For those of you who follow Rich Johnston's rumour column, LYING IN THE GUTTERS, this is the DR WHO tie in project he mentioned a few months ago. The
line below contains everything you need to know about DR WHO to
understand this comic. Seriously, that's all you need to know. Miranda is a stand alone project more akin to 2000AD at it's best than any form of horrifying tie in merchandise. There's no mention of a TARDIS, no hint of time travel and special effects far and away better than any seen on the series. Miranda, you see, is Empress of the known universe. For someone who grew up during the 1980s and by her own admission committed hideous crimes against fashion this is understandably a shock, but one she adapts to quite well. This first issue in fact follows her from the moment she's drawn out of time, the night the Berlin Wall fell, to her arrival at the Needle, her throneworld. It's a busy trip. This is classic fish out of water material, with Parkin's heroine reflecting on her astonishing situation with entertaining and often deadpan honesty. There's no histrionics here, no slack-jawed astonishment as Miranda, a fish very much out of water, struggles to adapt. Instead, she simply accepts her lot with a combination of pragmatism and casually slack jawed terror. It's an unusual response but an utterly believable one and interestingly the major area of parity between Miranda and it's 'parent' series. What always kept me coming back to DR WHO, other than Ace's endearing enthusiasm for explosives, was this simple pragmatism. The world ending? Must be written in my diary. Deadly radiation? Good job I've got a stick of celery on my lapel, that kind of thing. With this tone set, Parkin's script unfolds in a deceptively simple manner. By having a main character who has no idea what's going on, a great deal of exposition is dealt with in a manner which is both in depth and very accessible. By the end of the issue, we know as much about this world as Miranda does and have had an equally dizzying experience. Here, Allan Bednar's art comes into play, giving the world Miranda is experiencing the necessary sense of scope. Bednar's past as a computer game artist helps a great deal, giving Miranda's empire a look which is plausible but at the same time orders of magnitude more demented than anything that exists today. The arrival of a group of Skywardens, jet-pack soldiers for example brings the reader and Miranda absolutely into line. They splash across the page, dominating it completely and leaving reader and character alike standing around, open mouthed. It's a simple moment, but one which has far more impact than normal, simply because of Bednar's art and the care that Bednar and Parkin have put into this. Above all else, that's what you get from reading Miranda. From the constant, deadpan humour to the subtle but definite change in tone for the flashback sequences, horizontal splash pages instead of vertical panels, this has clearly had a great deal of time and effort expended on it. It's worked too, as Miranda is an inherently British, very skewed view of life in the future. Equal parts Julius Caesar and Spaced, it's odd, clever and great fun. Recommended. (Alasdair Stuart) * * * RAVEN
#1 A spy lives in my old house. Seriously, if Vince Danks is to be believed, then the same road I spent my second year at University living on also houses the Control for a unit of the British Government's paranormal intel unit. It's a nice road, secluded and perfect for students and, one would imagine, spies. SAPPHIRE hits me where I live, or used to live in this case. Set in York, it's the story of a group of spies involved in a labyrinthian world of half lies and conspiracies. Vince published six issues of SAPPHIRE several years ago to huge critical acclaim and precious little return and then went away. Now, with printing technology cheaper and better, Danks and collaborator Gibson are back with something which has immense potential. For two dollars US or one pound English, RAVEN is a classy piece of work, an anthology that not only resurrects SAPPHIRE but places it in a far broader context. You got a lot of comic for not very much with RAVEN, and SAPPHIRE really is just the jewel in the crown. In the years since it's last appeared, Danks has improved immeasurably as an artist and writer. This particular story follows a new recruit to the unit, who arrives in York complete with a great deal of personal baggage and is dropped right into the middle of a case involving suitcase nukes beneath the city, an Irish terrorist and something very nasty in the dark. It's crammed full of information, in fact skirts dangerously close to overloading the reader at times, and is the sort of compact, dense storytelling that English espionage fiction at it's best embodies. Demanding and complex, the story is balanced by Danks' almost photo-realistic artwork which leads the reader through the more complex sections. It's a story which demands attention but also deserves it and is a tremendously strong opening for the issue. Next
up is Gibson's 'The Bishop' which sees a definite change in both
tone and art style. A combination of photo-manipulation and line
art, it's sketchy, slightly fevered style marks the change in tone
from the more considered SAPPHIRE. It's a change that's backed up
by the scrip too, a piece of blacker than black comedy following
a crusading Bishop on the worst night of his life. It's got great
pacing, is grimly funny and ends in the last way you expect it to,
especially considering there are three more installments still to
come. I want to know what happens next, and I can't think of any
higher recommendation than that. The weaknesses of the third story aside, there's absolutely no reason not to pick this up. It's ridiculously cheap, has a style uniquely it's own and provides a welcome and pleasingly skewed look at one of the oddest cities in England. Give it a look. (Alasdair Stuart)
Discuss this column on the SAVANT forum. |