direct message 007: the amazing spider-man #700

by Alec Berry and Chad Nevett

It’s an anniversary edition of Direct Message. We hit our 7th column right when Amazing Spider-man hits its 700th issue. Get it?

sigh …

 

Alec Berry: So, Chad, this comic book ushered in death threats and another round of USA Today articles. It’s “controversial,” scandalous even. How do we respond?

We have our individual takes on the major idea at work here as well as the coming status quo, but for now let’s discuss The Amazing Spider-man #700 as a comic book and judge it as so.

I get it, Internet. Dan Slott “knows” Peter Parker. He understands him. He’s faithful to the core. That’s great, but Dan Slott didn’t write a good comic book here, and Edgar Delgado didn’t color one, either. Instead, what’s here is cheap and sloppy. Not horrible, but neither is there anything special about the execution or the attitude. Instead, it’s another issue - not the FINAL issue.

I know, I know … it’s not really the final issue, and it’d be simply ignorant of me to expect anything other than a sales grab from a comic book of this ilk, but could I not at least expect it to be well produced? Probably not, because that isn’t the point, right? The point is that final page catapulting readers to the next thing; it’s about a plot point; it’s about an illusion of change. Which, really, has been Slott’s run all along.

My main problem with the issue is that it flounders those key moments (like the actual death or the rescue of the cast). They feel cheap, in most instances, because there’s either not a whole lot put behind them or they come a little expected and on cue. The kiss really holds this tone because it’s sooooo transparent and on beat. Slott tries to earn it by dredging up the history of that relationship, but really he makes it all the more typical by doing so. As a reader, it’s pretty understood where those characters stand. The kiss isn’t a necessary action. Granted, it’s not really Peter under that mask, but even then it feels forced (which is creepy in its own way).

The Jonah father/son scene reads like a TV-movie-of-the-week moment: tacky as fuck.

And, honestly, actually putting Peter in heaven comes off as lazy, like it’s playing for that easy applause. Is that necessary? Smarter storytelling could have suggested the character’s fate and Uncle Ben’s approval without going there.

I don’t know how else to say it, but The Amazing Spider-man #700 just exemplifies the adjective “cheap,” even without the big upheaval. The story’s colorist, Edgar Delgado, really pushes that for me. His style  resembles the sugary gloss of fruit-flavored candy, amplifying the Subway-advertisement tone of this whole thing. It’s bright and too smooth. A product lacking heart.

And that’s what all this should have been about: the heart. This should be a celebration of something, but really the issue is in a rush, trying to leave before midnight rather than tearing on, abusing the mini bar and reveling in the party until dawn. This issue’s just another beat. A beat we both paid $8 for.

We’re smarter than this. I’m not shocked by what I got, maybe not even disappointed. I’m just surprised the industry feels it can still get by on these death stunts and hallmark issue numbers. That’s been the trend for a few years now, and it’s clear that at least the critics and online-centric readers see past this. But we all still buy, don’t we? Shelling out money for bullshit we know we’re paying for. God forbid we feel left out.  

Chad, express your general reaction. You’re on board for Superior Spider-man. Tell me why.

Chad Nevett: Easy: I like the idea. At least enough to give it an issue of this ‘new’ Spider-Man to see if it looks like it will have legs.

But, getting back to issue 700... it didn’t really do much for me as a comic either. There seemed to be some inconsistency in how Octavius in Peter’s body acts. In issue 698, he never did anything evil. He seemed rather excited about not being burdened by his old life and exploring the potential of what he can do as Peter Parker. Obviously, Peter would assume him to be evil, but there was no indication of that. After all, why mess up a good life because you took a bad turn in your previous one? And that seemed to run through the following issues except when it was convenient for Octavius to play a heel a bit more. That uncertainty of who this character is and what he wants bothers me. It didn’t seem like he needed those memory breakthroughs to not be bad, because the thing about Dr. Octopus is that he wasn’t always fully evil. He was the dark side of Spider-Man in that things happened and choices were made that put him down a bad path. He wasn’t necessarily bad, he was in a context that made him act that way more often than not. That’s a big difference from other bad guys. As we saw in 698, he seemed ready from the get go to continue with Spider-Man as a hero -- he merely wanted to live Peter Parker’s life to the fullest and, part of that, was being the best Spider-Man he could be.

The heaven scene was tacky as hell. The art on the whole didn’t impress me. I don’t find Humberto Ramos to be the best fit for Slott’s writing nor this character and his world. I’ve always seen Spider-Man being rooted a bit more in reality visually.

I do love the idea. I loved the idea of issue 698 where Octavius demonstrates that Peter Parker’s life as Spider-Man doesn’t have to be one of misery. To a degree, he brings a lot of his pain and suffering on himself. All of the tools are there to be a wonderfully happy and content person, and Octavius sees that. It’s a great criticism of Peter Parker, of his flaws -- and, through, Octavius, introduce new flaws. In the Ultimate Universe, they went with another kid as Spider-Man. Someone even younger and more inexperienced. I like that, here, we have the opposite. It’s still the body of Spider-Man, but with another brilliant man with experience in superhuman matters who will bring a new perspective to what being both Peter Parker and Spider-Man means. There’s a lot of potential in that idea. I’m not sure Dan Slott is the writer I want to see try to realise that potential, but I’ll give him a shot since it’s him or no one.

Did you also get Avenging Spider-Man #15.1? I found it to be a better introduction/teaser for this new Spider-Man concept and it sold me on trying Superior Spider-Man #1 more than Amazing #700 did.

AB: I didn’t. I was unaware.

I agree with you. The idea itself intrigues me and makes sense. Ock and Peter are very similar and have always been opposite sides of the same coin, so the symmetry between the characters really kills any argument of this direction not making sense.

The notion of pushing the character forward - making him a superior super hero - also intrigues me. Granted, fucking up is sort of the soul, but Spider-man stories could benefit and flex under the premise of having the character at the top of his game. That pushes a writer to break the usual formula behind a Spider-man comic, and the expected cliches fall away. Will that happen? Possibly, but I suspect the arc of this tale is that Ock, now possessing Peter’s memories, will fail to commit superior actions under the old Parker trope of “guilt.” Plus, he makes a promise to protect Peter’s family and friends, which has always been the crux of the character’s seemingly sub-par performance. He’s too responsible, unable to truly meet a potential.

The illusion of change, but under it the same, old story. That’s Dan Slott’s success.

Do you like the choice of killing Peter? I don’t exactly care, but it seems a more entertaining story exists with keeping Peter alive in Ock’s body, having him live that experience while the characters really switch roles. Maybe that reveals something about each character we didn’t know before. There would also be room to play with structure and voice, I think. I don’t know, just an idea.

Also, how did you feel about Ock’s push to bed MJ? That seemed out of place, and as a writer I wouldn’t place my attention there. Not that, under the right execution, that couldn’t be interesting. The focus just felt wrong for this tale, like a side-tracked thought. The character’s racing against the clock, it seems, trying to ensure that the other character is dead, but Slott must stop and jarringly jam in a few creepy sexual scenes. Obviously, yeah, MJ must be covered at some point, but why not hold that off for later? As a writer, you know Ock’s keeping that body, so save yourself a story.

Also, MJ’s short-shifted to basically being a supportive wife. Where’s that spunk?    

CN: I think it’s hard to avoid, mostly because Octavius spent his life as this overweight, nerdy outcast and, as I think you know, something that often fuels genius is that sense of rejection from the opposite sex. Now, here, he’s put in the body of a man who was intimately involved with a model, an actress, an object of men’s desires... for him to ignore that would ring hollow. I think there’s room in that part of the story to see his growth as he struggles to move past simply satisfying all of his base urges and becoming a genuinely good, heroic person. Then again, I tend to view very little as off limits, even in Spider-Man comics. If they were to simply gloss over the conflict at play here, it would be terrible, dreadful writing. But, if they were to explore the implications of what it means to be in possession of another person’s body, how you can violate others in unspeakable ways without their knowledge... It’s another angle on “With great power comes great responsibility.” Otto Octavius has gained the power of people thinking he is Peter Parker and Spider-Man, so what will he do with the responsibility that comes with that power? That seems to be the central question of Superior Spider-Man. Or, if it’s not, it should be.

I don’t mind ‘killing’ Peter, because it was accomplished in a way where it is incredibly easy to bring him back. Octavius has overwritten his mind, but it’s not hard to present comic book science where the body fights back and Peter’s consciousness slowly comes back until, finally, Peter Parker is Peter Parker. It’s a story with an obvious exit strategy -- and I like that. If only because there’s also the potential for a period where Spider-Man is basically Firestorm, Peter and Otto both rattling around inside that head, trying to work together (and against one another at times). Isn’t that fantastic? Spider-Man ripping off a Spider-Man rip-off?

AB: Well, the story rips-off “Kraven’s Last Hunt” without any of the craft. It even includes this moment: 

“Kraven’s Last Hunt” offered a complete picture, a change in pace, tone and structure and an effort to push those characters until they arrived somewhere new. Even when Spider-man was “killed,” the gimmick was turned into something worthwhile.

Slott’s isn’t that kind of comics creator, though. He’s a writer who writes for the thrill of hitting those cool moments (which is fine), yet he ignores the form almost entirely. That’s why he’s such a success on Spider-man because that’s what the audience wants (and why he drives me up a wall).

I don’t know. That’s really all I can say about this comic. It wasn’t absolutely terrible, and the idea is fine enough and may provide a few sparks. It just feels cheap and represents the wrong of comics.

Plus, those colors are so bright and polished that they’re dull and forgettable.

CN: So... no Superior Spider-Man Direct Message, then?

AB: ‘Fraid not.

Somewhere, Dan Slott gives his order. A message board will soon be soaked in blood. For now, sweat and saliva stew, lubricating the crevices between his keyboard keys.

direct message 006: cable & x-force #1

by Alec Berry and Chad Nevett

From the vaults of Marvel NOW! comes another X-Men comic book.

provided by shawn starr

Because fuck you.

Chad Nevett: I don’t know when I gained my affinity for Cable, but it seems like a lifelong habit at this point. Every new series starring the character, I drop in and see what’s what. This time, I’m forcing young Alec Berry to join me. Young Alec is so young that I believe Cable already existed when he was born. Is that right? For you, Cable is almost like any other mainstream superhero character: He’s always been there for as long as you can remember. That’s both a statement about your age and his endurance. Who would have thought that slapping some giant shoulder pads, a metal arm and guns the size of battleship on a senior citizen would work so well?

Anyway...

Cable & X-Force #1 is certainly a comic book. It’s not terribly good. I’m not even sure what the premise is. I know Cable and his group do something wrong, because Captain America and Havok disapprove. I’m not entirely sure what, because the writer decided that, instead of sticking with the interesting bits at the beginning, he would instead spend most of the comic boring me with backstory that didn’t tell me anything. Add to that the art team of Larroca and D’Armata and, well, here we are.

I AM SORRY.

Alec Berry: Alright. I know reviews and criticism like to rely on hyperbole, but as I write this I’m being 100% honest.

Cable & X-force #1 is the worst comic book I’ve read in at least the past 6 months, maybe more. And that’s up against the Fraction/Bagley Fantastic Four, Liefeld’s Hawk & Dove (although, that was fun) and a random issue of Johns/Lee Justice League. And those books provided some sort of fan-ish incentive for my reading pleasure. With this, there’s not even a creator or character I hold some sort of superficial regard for. No, instead, Cable & X-force gives me Dennis Hopeless, a writer capable of more yet simultaneously I hold no connection to, the artist who more than likely broke Matt Fraction’s spirit and Frank D’Armata, who …  do I have to write it?

And, yes, Cable: A character who might as well have been created in 1963, for all I care. You love him, and that’s cool - I love Moon Knight - but there’s nothing there for me. He’s Liefeld, and I respect that, but that’s as far as my respect goes.

The script certainly offers little, but the visuals say it all. These are some incredibly boring layouts. Almost every page utilizes the same horizontally driven machine - panels stacked on panels stacked on panels. There’s a certain interest in cinematic widescreen scope with this approach, but really all it achieves are slow moving pages. The reader literally just moves down the chain. The uniformity of the whole thing neutralizes any potential energy. There’s not an ounce of reason for this choice of design. It benefits the story in no way, and it lacks any heart or reason to be. Larocca literally just picked a grid and filled in the blanks. Cash job, I get it, but for fuck sake, at least show some effort. Fail beautifully, if anything. You make comic books because you enjoy it, correct?  Then show me. Show me you want to be here. There are so many artists who would love a gig like this, but instead you turn in half-assed squares and act like that’s good enough. D’Armata can’t even be blamed for this.

I’m not asking for Building Stories, but for a comic book about a cyborg and a black-ops mutant team, it might be a good idea to spice up the visual direction and actually make this story appear exciting in some regard. At least draw some vertical panels. Liefeld, despite his own faults, sold the energy of both Cable and X-force. That’s all I want, quite honestly. If he’s so bad as everyone says, it shouldn’t take any effort to out-do what he did.

As the artist, you’re a member of the writing team - more so than Hopeless. Write. Direct. Take charge and fucking boil a reader’s brain with something hard and awesome. Don’t just paste figures over bland backgrounds and hope you get by on the comic’s “realistic” appearance. Cartoon, motherfucker. Give me spunk, mistakes, flash and heart. Direct those characters. Consider why they’re there. Think about how the page should and has to move. This bullshit you submitted looks like it went through an assembly line.  Stiff, stale, stagnant … that’s all this is. You’re an artist. Be, you know, creative and loosen up.

Corporate comics deserve the critical thrashing when this is the type of shit representing. It’s hollow and cynical. As you pointed out, Chad, I have no idea what the premise of this series is. Cable wants to be with his daughter, but she wants to be a regular person, yet she’s pissed when her dad isn’t around? Cable’s leading X-force and has upset Captain America? Domino breaks into a facility for easy money, serving as a cheap plot mechanic so that Hope and Cable can be drawn in the same panel? A giant boat attacks a beach on the final page?

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ABOUT?

As blogger Matt Derman said, the book “hardly cares if anyone comes back for the next installment.” So, as a reader, why should you?

A story isn’t dying to be told. Instead, this is all service for the few fans (sorry, Chad) who must know where Cable ended up after the latest crossover event. That’s what this is. It’s a series of bullet points detailing the whereabouts of a fictional character. Money, paper, time and countless other resources were spent just so people on the Internet know Cable lives in a field somewhere, now.

I don’t even want to write about it anymore, so, Chad, I am finished. I’m sure as a reviewer I failed to be fair, balanced and considerate or even make a point, and I’m sure the number of examples I cited are limited, but it’s clear to anyone who read the comic that Cable & X-Force #1 was garbage. That’s the only necessary evidence. My perspective matters not.   

CN: Fuck fair and balanced. You paid your money, so those that took it can shut the fuck up. Which, by the way, is the trump card in all situations like this. Unless said person is giving it away for free, then there is no right of response. They got paid -- fuck ‘em. Once you’ve given that money over, any response is legitimate (well, within reason; no violence or anything like that, obviously).

It wasn’t the worst comic I’ve read in the past six months, but I don’t disagree with anything you’ve said otherwise. And I’m one of those people who check in on Cable for whatever fucked up reason. From that perspective, this isn’t fan service. I was not served by this comic in any way. Yeah, it features Cable -- just as it features other characters that other people have irrational interests in. I don’t think any of us could say that we were served by them being in this comic. Unless you’re pleased simply by your favourite character being in a comic no matter how terrible or worthless an experience it actually is. If so, well, glad you got your money’s worth. I sure as shit didn’t. Alec certainly did not.

I hope this comic gets cancelled. Soon. I cannot fathom who thought that this was a good first issue. We are both too reasonably intelligent people -- educated, well read, thoughtful when we aren’t jumping to absurd conclusions in an attempt to be hip/funny/cool -- and we both walked away wondering why this comic exists. Okay, not really. We know the reason why Marvel published it in that all comics are published for the same reason. But, looking beyond money/IP concerns, why was this specific comic published? Why this script, this art, etc.? No fucking clue.

All I know is that that’s three bucks I’m never seeing again and I have wasted both of our time. I don’t think I’m allowed to suggest topics anymore, am I?

Not Cable comics, at least.

direct message 005: fatale

by Alec Berry and Chad Nevett

Week 2. The final week?

( we totally missed the deadline )

Alec Berry: We’ve made it clear in the past that we’re fans of this creative team, and I’m happy to say that Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips aren’t OK with growing comfortable. Fatale is quite ambitious. Ambitious for its interest in melding genres, but more so for its approach to assembling the story and the range of its fictional landscape. Plus, according to Brubaker, this project just keeps growing and growing, pushing from 12 issues to 15 and now to whenever he feels it’s done.

There’s no doubt Fatale does tread some familiar ground, but the series doesn’t feel like an exercise in recycling. Instead, Fatale pushes the interests of the creators and expands the territory those interests can walk upon. The whole thing’s about a femme fatale, but so far we’ve seen that one thing interact with horror, Lovecraft, 70s Hollywood and a time hopping narrative (with surely more to come). Plus, Brubaker and Phillips have shed light on the fatale’s POV which opens up a whole other angle in terms of a noir staple.

Most importantly, it’s all a juggling act on their part. They have to keep all of these objects in the air and synchronize them for our reading pleasure, and so far, though with a few slight slips, they’ve done a pretty nice job of making all of this work. At moments, it may seem fair to ask, “what is going on?”, but with each subsequent issue I’ve found my questions answered, and at this point there’s a confidence in this series. Brubaker and Phillips want to build Fatale this way, and the reading experience is a much more involving one for it.

For some reason, I expect you’re about to disagree with me, so I’ll hand it off to you, Chad.

Chad Nevett: Did I talk about Fatale with you and Joey? I honestly can’t remember, because I wound up talking to Tim and Joey the following night after some online RPGing fell through and I might have talked about it with them.

I like Fatale. I think. I’m at the point where I’m putting aside issues to read in larger chunks, because I find myself drifting when I drop in for single issues. Part of the problem, I think, is the ambition of the series and the unfamiliar ground for this team. Not as much Phillips as Brubaker. Phillips has drawn stuff like this going back to Hellblazer, but Brubaker still seems like he’s trying to find a way to pull it all together. The noir stuff works, just not when it’s run aside the rest. There’s such a large mythology looming in the background that he doesn’t want to simply throw in our faces that he’s forced to tease it out and... it’s not entirely successful. It feels half-formed at times, walking that line between the familiar and unfamiliar in a fashion where you can see the line and where he’s comfortable as a writer. It almost makes me wonder if he would have been better served just diving straight into horror and leaving noir behind, because the comparison isn’t always flattering; he would always face the comparison, but to have it in the same comic?

I don’t know why entirely, but every time I read about Brubaker expanding the book, it seems wrong to me. I know that paid off in Captain America, especially when Steve Rogers died. However, one of Brubaker’s biggest strengths has always been structure and being able to tell a story well within the structure he’s set out. Criminal stories were very specific in their size and that was a tremendous asset and appeal of the book. He could make stories sing and hit the right beats at the right time when he had the structure nailed down. So far, Fatale has meandered a bit more and hasn’t landed as strongly at the end of issues always. There hasn’t been the same “I need to read the next issue!” hook when I finish an issue.

It’s interesting that, instead of making this a book where he and Phillips would revisit the world and characters in separate minis, it’s just being expanded into a default ongoing series with no end in sight. Like the mash-up of noir and genre, that’s a little unfamiliar territory for the two given their collaborative history, and that’s both exciting and not. I genuinely love seeing people push themselves and try new things. The downside is that the work isn’t always as good. The next series where they try this will go better, no doubt. But, Fatale? Victim of experimentation, perhaps? (Too early to tell, obviously.)

AB: When you mention Brubaker walking the line between noir and horror, leaving you a little uncertain, well, that’s the point. I’ll agree with you in that Brubaker hasn’t necessarily picked an area of interest, but in terms of that being detrimental, I just don’t see it. The horror comes across sharper because of Brubaker walking that line. You’re left to believe this is just another Brubaker/Phillips collaboration, but at certain moments something horrific happens and you question what this series is. They ground so much of this story into a setting you may find predictable or familiar, yet when a monster shows up or a sacrifice occurs it only feels more eerie because it’s surrounded by so much of what’s familiar. They create a sense of invasion with that approach, suggesting these supernatural elements are alive and at any moment could fuck with what appears to be a recognizable existence - which is Lovecraft-y.

Plus, and I’m pretty sure Brubaker has mentioned this somewhere in the backmatter of this series, noir and horror just seem to mesh. Josephine is the one character who embodies elements of both subjects, and her dilemma shows what can be horrific about the noir style. She’s a femme fatale, and as we’ve seen she lives a life in which she’s afraid to act because of how her actions tend to affect others. With this, Brubaker and Phillips have also built in a sense of sexual repression/motivation - which tends to be a big theme in horror films and noir. Fatale hosts a lot of sex scenes, and that’s not a coincidence - that’s the common ground Brubaker and Phillips are working from, attaching horror and noir.

But there are other ways in which Fatale has shown noir to be horrific or horror to be sort of like noir. The cynicism of noir isn’t exactly hopeful. The subplot of the corrupt cops in the first arc shows us that. The melodrama and spectacle of horror sort of fits the dramatic tone of noir. Look at any big reveal moment in which a supernatural element is shown in this series and compare it to moments when the reveal is a drawn gun or human-versus-human conflict. They all have that same sense of shock value.

You’re right that this crew usually works within a set structure, but as we’ve discussed with Sleeper, it isn’t unknown for them to wander a bit. Will there be mistakes? I’m sure, but I’m OK with it because I tend to enjoy works with flaws as long as the overall project pushes. We both agree that Fatale pushes, and on my end I feel it’s been very interesting. Especially in terms of the character development. Because of the space, Brubaker and Phillips have given us some time to spend with Josephine and just sort of watch her, and it never feels to grow old. She’s a character who’s cursed with immortality, so it’s important to feel some of that time she’s forced to exist within. In the second arc, the scenes of her in her big, lonesome house just supply a sense of dread and imprisonment. Phillips draws her always near or in a window, framing her twice through both the panel and the window. He’s trapping her, and that’s a great, visually traditional way to speak of her situation.

the line went silent for a few days …

CN: Well, I just finished reading the second arc, which just finished up this week. There’s something off with this comic. Off as in... I don’t particularly like it. I love Phillips’s art, of course. I love the way he draws Jo; it’s somehow more expressive and deeper and softer than women he’s drawn before, which lends to the idea of her as this irresistible femme fatale that fucks up men forever. The writing, though, just leaves me so cold. The horror isn’t horrific, the noir is barely there... It seems more like bad melodrama much of the time. There are moments that work, mostly the stuff in the ‘present,’ but so much of it feels like it’s reaching for something that it can’t quite grasp.

Let’s see if I can write an explanation that I don’t know yet...

Tucker Stone partly hit the nail on the head recently when discussing the finale of the second arc. He said, basically, that, up until that point, Jo’s agony over her situation was boring. We saw a man influenced/trapped by her and not liking it, while we saw her not liking it either. Worse, the situation is one that isn’t inherently interesting. A woman who gets men to fall for her and do dumb things turned up to superhuman levels? That actually takes the edge off in a way. It’s less compelling when there’s something supernatural at play. She’s not complicit (except when she is) and that lack of intent much of the time creates a very passive story.

The horror/supernatural stuff feels like a crutch here that allows things to happen because they happen. There isn’t much bite, or even actual exploration into the cult in the second arc. There’s almost a “You know what this is...” assumption made. And we do. So, why should we care if nothing is really being said?

That sums it up for me: aside from the ‘present’ sequences, nothing is being said. At least nothing that I haven’t seen Brubaker say before -- and better.

AB: Jo doesn’t have to be complicit for it to be interesting. Actually, it's more interesting that she’s not and that the supernatural element of the story forces her hand and seems to be out of her or anyone’s control. That’s horrific - the fact that she feels bad, yet she must continue to do what she does because of a primal need/cosmic force. If she just agreed with it and fed into it, she’d just be any other villain or femme fatale.

You may be right in Brubaker using supernatural excuses as a crutch to move the plot and establish its conflicts, but at the same time isn’t that the same of any genre? And even here, the characters, or at least the villains of the story, seem to be in possession of those supernatural powers, sourcing their own motivations to insight the action/conflict. The cult has a motivation. They want Jo. Why? We’re not sure, but we’re not supposed to be sure because this thing’s a mystery too, and that provides some of the suspense. Why are they after her? Keep reading.

As for saying something new, I’ll give you that. Sleeper said all of this better, but at the same time the message or grand thought doesn’t seem to be the reason for this series. Above, I made the case for Fatale being an exercise for Brubaker and Phillips to further indulge their interests and entertain those interests in different ways. Through execution, that is so. We’re seeing this team sew this plot together in an ambitious fashion along with entertaining numerous characters and powerful forces that still remain in the dark. Yes, at the end of the day, the grand message isn’t exactly brand new, but we’re still seeing these creators construct a story a little differently, and I find it worthy of reading.  

As for your complaint of the horror not hitting, I really don’t know what to say except that it does for me. Difference in what we find horrific, I guess.  

I’m glad you brought up Phillips, though. We needed to cover him. This is arguably some of his stronger work, and I find that his usual use of the grid and smaller panels has really taken on some new life here. There’s something about that tightness to his layouts and page design that works toward the claustrophobia the Josephine character experiences. You’re spot on about how Phillips portrays Jo as visually soft and delicate, but outside of his line the pages sort of work to choke and suppress her. Visually, you get a sense of her almost fighting against the page as she tries to break free of the circumstance.

Dave Stewart’s also grown on me. I still miss Val Staples as a piece of this team, but Stewart is slowly becoming the look. Although, it does feel a tad less special. Stewart colors so many books, and it’s certainly possible to take it all for granted.

So Fatale clearly isn’t  a favorite of yours. Is this the worst Brubaker/Phillips project? What could have made Fatale better for you, to put it neatly?

CN: I’m with you on Val Staples. Something clicked there with Sean Phillips -- like Bryan Hitch/Paul Neary/Laura DePuy on The Authority. I really liked the colouring (and inking) on Hitch’s other work, but it was missing some intangible -- perhaps simply the one in my head. Same thing here. But, that’s me...

Fatale is not necessarily the worst Brubaker/Phillips project, but it’s definitely the one where I find myself pulled in two directions the most. As you point out, Phillips is continuing to grow and improve as an artist, doing some of his best work here. While Brubaker is leaving me cold on almost every level. That gap between writing and art has never been so wide and that’s disappointing. I think, on the whole, Incognito underwhelmed me more. I guess my problem is taking noir tropes and splicing them with other genres. They already do straight-up noir crime comics so well that it feels like watering those stories down with genre conveniences. Or cutting the comics with something bad.

There’s also the limitation of how much you’re willing to let any artist re-explore the same ideas again and again. I have it seems almost infinite patience for Warren Ellis exploring similar ideas in new ways, but not Ed Brubaker? That’s certainly a possibility. Not really fair, though...

AB: Yeah, I’m perfectly fine with watching this team as well as Brubaker himself re-explore a certain number of thoughts. To me, it’s no different than what plenty of other writers do. Brubaker has his interests, and he expands on them through familiar stories. It’s what writers do. Some just work better than others.

If I were to provide a ranking, I’d put Fatale somewhere in the middle of the list, maybe near a spot in the upper half. It’s not the all-out strongest in terms of impact, but its playfulness and sense of chance make it fun to read and watch develop. It’s definitely better than Incognito, but it doesn’t really challenge the likes of Sleeper or Criminal: Lawless either. More like a Criminal: Bad Night, than anything. Though, all subject to change if coming issues really pull this thing over the top.

We’ve claimed Fatale as being some of Sean Phillips’ stronger work, but why? For me, I see his sensibilities and style of storytelling very effective with this type of tale. We’ve both discussed his attention to the main character, but the time-hopping also allows Phillips to draw, at least so far, two eras he excels at: the 1940s/classic film noir era and 70s Hollywood, a time period that goes along well with Phillips’ work drawing Criterion covers. The settings are to his advantage, but we’re also getting his take on horror and more specifically the supernatural. I’m sure those areas were covered in his Hellblazer issues, but here it’s at work again, and it’s unsettling how similar it is to his take on crime comics. It seems unintentional and more a case of an overpowering visual style, but no matter the case Phillips’ style forces him to blend the noir and horror further. His pacing is no different here, and he approaches horror reveals very much like he approaches moments of reveal in a crime story. In fact, Fatale may just show us how horrific Phillips has been drawing crime all along, showing us a true terror we can actually experience.

All and all, this book just involves all of the right elements for Phillips. He’s drawing plenty of interesting stuff - from setting to objects to characters - along with constructing everything effectively. And that line and those inks are just at work. Very rich and at times round.  

CN: I see two potential reasons for why I think this is Phillips’s best work (well, there’s a third, too): it’s his most recent work and I’m of the mind that he keeps getting better. Or, there’s the lack of connection with the writing, making the art seems better because it needs to compensate more than usual. The third reason could be that it is better for many of the reasons you gave. I don’t believe Phillips has ever done a character as well as Jo. She is singular within this world visually and that impresses me quite a bit. She’s different from the others, but not so different that it looks like a completely radical style that clashes. I rather like that.

and with that, old man Nevett exhaled, and the room went quiet …