The Tenth: Blackout 1997 (SC TPB) 112 pages
The Tenth: Blackout 1997 (SC TPB) 112 pages
Written by Tony Daniel (plot), Beau Smith (script), Pencils by Tony Daniel. Inks by Marlo Alquiza, others.
Colours: Paul Mounts. Letters: Kell-o-graphics. Editor: Bahareh Harandi.
Reprinting: The Tenth (monthly series) #1-5 (1997)
Rating: * * 1/2 (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Published by Image Comics
I picked this up (or, rather, the original issues) on a whim, knowing nothing about it. Originally published in the late 1990s, this was an image comic at a time when Image had a rather, um, problematic reputation among comics critics, their comics tending to be seen as, well, more about the images than the story content (interestingly, in one of the accompanying letters pages, a reader remarks that he only reads Image comics).
But there is a kind of quirky fun to The Tenth. The premise involves Victor, the tenth of the title, who can mutate into a super strong monster (and has an apparent vampiric need for blood), Esperanza, a telekinitic, and her best friend, Zorina (not to mention her cat -- told you there was a quirkiness to it), who are on the run from the remnants of the evil cult that created The Tenth, plus there's cutaways involving covert American agents, the Japanese secret police, a robot girl killing machine, etc. It's kind of wild n' wacky and full of so many ideas just tossed at you you'd swear you were coming into the middle of an on going story, not the beginning issues.
Which, of course, it turns out you are, because although these are the beginning issues of the monthly series, The Tenth actually kicked off in an earlier mini-series.
Which becomes problematic. If you haven't read that mini-series, things might seem just a mite confusing, even as, as noted, it gives the series a kind of refreshing quirkiness as lots of "new" ideas are thrown at you and you're picking up on them as you go. On the other hand, if you had read that earlier mini-series, you might actually find there was a certain dearth of fresh ideas, as clearly a lot of this, and the characters, are just being reiterated.
Still, as I said, there's a kind of quirky fun, with plotter-artists, Tony Daniel, and scripter Beau Smith not taking things too seriously (without sliding into being just a joke). Daniel's art is very much of the Image school, borrowing from the likes of Jim Lee and with a Japanese magna influence. And though I'm not always fond of that style, Daniel's style retains a (general) clarity, where, distorted monsters notwithstanding, you can generally tell what's going on. And there's a definite "Good Girl Art" aspect to it, as Esperanza and Zorrie are constantly being depicted in short-shorts, or mini-skirts that ride so high you can see their panties. But Daniel makes no pretence about his intentions -- the sexy babes are intrinsic to the marketing. And there's a certain logicless indulgence to it. There's no nudity, but the girls frequently find their clothes getting torn -- for no reason. Literally, one panel their clothes are fine, the next, there are gaping tears. Or, in some sort of fashion parade, Daniel will sometimes change what they're wearing -- when there was no time for the characters to actually change clothes!
Still, as mentioned, there's a kind of guilty pleasure fun to it all, as it clips along breezily. At least for a while.
But you can kind of tell this is an artist driven story, precisely because of all the wild ideas thrown in with little regard for logic or coherence. It's kind of fun, in a scene-by-scene, page-by-page way, but I wasn't really sure what was going on in a bigger "story arc" sense. And as someone who naively puts great stock in "storytelling", there's a certain problematical aspect to that. After all, the characters were first introduced in a "mini-series", which clearly didn't resolve much, as it leads into this series. These five issues were marketed as the opening story arc, but by the end, there are still a zillion things left dangling. So instead of being convinced Daniel can deliver on the plot, there's more a sense that he's just like Wiley E. Coyote, running head tilt, hoping no one will look down and realize there's no ground under foot.
This is best regarded as a "mature readers" comic -- ironically, despite the blatant salaciousness, as mentioned, there's no nudity, but the violence does sometimes go over-the-top, and there is occasional profanity.
Ultimately, there is a kind of goofy fun to The Tenth, a kind of energy and infectious enthusiasm, with quirky ideas and underdressed babes...but after a while, I'll admit, I didn't really find myself caring overmuch, and there's a definite sense of disappointment when you reach the end of this story arc...and don't really feel like you've reached the end of anything. Interestingly, the comic carries accompanying hype notices about how it's taking the industry by storm and is becoming a massive hit.
Maybe yes, maybe no. Personally, I'd never heard of it, and I picked up these issues in the discount bin.
This is a review of the story as it was first serialized in the monthly comic.
Cover price: __
Terminal
City 1997 (SC TPB) 232 pages
Written by Dean Motter. Art by Michael Lark.
Colours: Rick Taylor. Letters: Willie Schubert. Editor: Shelly Roeberg.
Reprints the original 9 issue mini-series (1995-1996) - with covers
Rating: * * * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Published by DC Comics / Vertigo
Terminal City is like coming home to a place you've never been to before. It's a delightfully evocative -- read cliched -- saga of opulent high rises, Damon Runyon-esque gangsters, misfits and dreamers...even as you're hard pressed to point to something else that's quite like it.
It's set in an alternate reality present where everything has a retro art-deco look that casts you back to a period somewhere between the 1930s and the 1950s, except this "present" is filled with robots, flying cars and airships. Terminal City is a once-great metropolis that has seen better days, as symbolized by the giant statue head that is the city's centrepiece -- it's a magnificent edifice, but it was intended to sit atop a body that was never built, a permanent reminder of the city's glory days gone by. The story revolves around the Herculean Arms, a lavish hotel that, likewise, has seen better days, and focuses on a variety of odd ball characters that inhabit it, or otherwise frequent it, and the various schemes they're either plotting or being caught up in.
Terminal City has a lot of strengths, and at least one major weakness.
Perhaps the principal character is Cosmo Quinn, a one-time superstar daredevil, the Human Fly, who's now a window washer at the Arms. His fall from grace occurred ten years before, when Terminal City was staging the Brave New World's Fair, at the same time various other characters -- Monty Vickers (a combination of Frank Buck and P.T. Barnum), Kid Gloves (a promising boxer), and Eno Orez (a famous actor) -- all saw their careers end. Now, in various threads, all of them have returned to Terminal City, for various reasons. Plus there's an albino lady mobster, Li'l White Lily, and various corrupt officials who are after a mysterious briefcase that literally drops into the Herculean Arms. They, and various sundry other characters, get caught up in the double crosses and machinations, twists and turns.
It's a lot of fun. Though Terminal City is something of a dystopia, there's a decided twinkle to the proceedings, a lightness. Terminal City is quirky, funny, and even silly...as well as serious and menacing. Writer Dean Motter doesn't let his quirkiness rob the characters of their reality, though, nor the story of its grounding. Weird and wonderful things may be happening (this is a world where Abominable Snowmen are on display at the local carnival and sleepwalkers walk on the side of buildings) but the characters react as real people would...if real people lived in such a world.
Though not a superhero story, per se, there are decidedly superhero elements in the larger-than-life characters, like Cosmo, who dons his Human Fly costume when forced to beard the bad guys, or an enigmatic Lady in Red who shows up in times of trouble with her bolo and pistols, and others.
The story can easily be seen as inspired by The Watchmen with its depiction of an alternate reality and a complex story about various characters stirred back to action ten years after their fall, told with some flashbacks. But it's a kinder, more whimsical version of The Watchmen. There are also, obviously, elements of film noire archetypes of gangsters, corruption and boxing rings, mixing with "Grand Hotel" and "Casablanca". Michael Lark's geometric art combines detailed realism and pleasing simplicity against a backdrop of lavish sets and little touches evoking early 20th Century cartoonists like George McManus and even Winsor McCay. And it's all boldy coloured by Rick Taylor.
Some of the in-jokes get a bit much, though, from a used robot lot peopled by every famous robot in film history to a robot clerk named Bazil who mistreats Manuel, the bellhop (echoing the classic British sitcom "Fawlty Towers") to a running gag involving a painter named Watt that invokes Abbott & Costello's "Who's on first?" routine. And many (many) more. Not to mention the endless stream of joke names and puns. It can pass clever and head directly to cloying.
But the main weaknesses with Terminal City are twofold.
One, an overall lightness, with characters who are likeable, even interesting, but a tad undeveloped. The thing's a genuinely enjoyable, twisty little tale, but remains steadfastly superficial. And as things progress, some of the coincidences seem a little too contrived, the resolutions too haphazard.
And two...well, just as this represents some of the best of comics, telling a tale that probably couldn't achieve the same effect of story and visuals just in a novel or a film, it also displays the flaw of so many comics folks. Namely the inability, or the unwillingness, to bring about closure. You read this complex epic of multiple characters and various sub-plots and you think "Gosh, how's he gonna bring this all together?"
The answer is: Motter doesn't entirely. Some of the main plot threads resolve, true, but other things never go anywhere and there are questions that are never satisfactorily answered. Either Motter didn't have enough of a grasp of the nature of storytelling, or he wanted to leave things to carry into the follow-up mini-series (Terminal City: Aerial Graffiti -- which I haven't read). The curse of comics is that everyone's looking for the franchise, the nest egg that they can keep coming back to. Not that Motter couldn't have resolved things tidily and still been able to return to these characters in the future. But I guess he just didn't trust the fickleness of the market enough.
I'm still giving Terminal City a thumbs up, 'cause it's refreshing and a whole lot of fun getting to the end...even as the end is a disappointment when it arrives. By doing so, though, I'm probably just encouraging one of the main problems keeping comics from being taken seriously by mainstream society, 'cause I don't think anyone'd get away with these kind of dangling plot threads in a movie or novel! It warrants a slight "mature readers" warning.
Cover price: $27.95 CDN./ $19.95 USA.
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