Vamps
1995 (SC TPB) 160 pages
Written by Elaine Lee. Illustrated by William Simpson.
Colours: Stuart Chaifetz. Letters: Clem Robins. Editor: Stuart Moore.
Reprinting the first Vamps mini-series (#1-6) from 1994
Rating: * 1/2 (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Published by DC Comics / Vertigo
Suggested for Mature Readers
Vamps is about vampires, but instead of vampires as bad guys, these are vamps we're supposed to be rooting for. Ah hah, you think, so we're talking TV's "Angel", "Forever Knight" and the long list of repentant vampires that creep through pop culture? Well, no -- these vamps are a bloodthirsty lot, eagerly tearing their way through a slew of unhappy victims. And therein lies the rub.
Vamps follows a pack of female vampires, mainly Southern belles, who've just slain their vampire master, Dave (a cute gag as one remarks: what kinda name is that for a vampire?), and hit the road on a bunch of stolen Harley-Davidson motorcycles. These aren't just vampires, these are biker chick vampires. Most of the pack just wants to roam about, feasting and sometimes fornicating (heterosexually, of course). But their leader, Howler, has a hidden agenda (they all have names like that: Howler, Screech, Skreek, Mink, Whipsnake). Howler wants to track down her son who was taken from her (when she was human) and given away for adoption. Meanwhile, a private eye, Hank Gallagher, hired by the brother of one of their victims, and Howler's human twin sister, Jenn, are pursuing them, as is ol' Dave who gets resurrected.
All of which makes Vamps sound more interesting than it is.
Despite what seem like enough plot threads and characters to make Vamps a '90s version of Marvel's Tomb of Dracula, the main point of Vamps is more just to watch the vamps go from one bloody killing spree to another. The sub-plots involving Hank and Jenn, or Dave, or even Howler's missing son, are thinly developed at best.
Obviously one can't be too judgmental -- entertainment is often cathartic in nature, with the audience vicariously enjoying things we wouldn't necessarily want to do in real life. You can enjoy Conan stories by Robert E. Howard without wanting to pick up a sword. On the other hand, people might have a dim view (well, dimmer view) of Conan if he went around carving up innocent bystanders, which is basically what the vamps do. There are spots where Lee tries to put it almost on a moral retribution level, having the vamps kill sleaze-balls, but often it's not even that, or at least, the punishment seems to outway the crime. Even "Thelma and Louise", the movie heroines Vamps has been compared to, showed considerably more restraint in dealing with the loathsome. When Howler gets all righteous about someone hitting a child you have to wonder if writer Elaine Lee is trying to be funny...'cause it's hard to take Howler's indignation seriously after all the atrocities she's inflicted herself.
Put more controversially, Vamps can be likened to the novel "American Psycho" (which, admittedly, I haven't read), a story of a serial killer told from the killer's point of view. Except that, reportedly, "American Psycho" was meant to be a satire.
So is that fair? After all, vampires, unlike serial killers, are make believe, all-in-fun. Should the story be taken as anything more than escapist entertainment?
Maybe. I mean, it's difficult to believe Vertigo would have published this if the vamps had been males, targeting females, saying the same things about women the vamps say about men, or with the way Lee, with an at times shocking explicitness, likens the vampires feeding to a sex act. Heck, if Vamps, as is, was written by a man, I think Vertigo would've stayed away from it, it raising too many controversial demons. If I'm right, if the above scenarios would've caused Vamps to be taken "seriously" (and be criticized), then can I do any less just 'cause it's by a woman, about women?
But talent, admittedly, can forgive at least some sins. There's no doubt Lee can put words together. Particularly in the early issues her ear for dialogue, the moody narration by Howler, her knack for Dixie ambience, all work well. Not that I'm in a position to judge whether the Southern atmosphere of the early chapters is authentic, merely that it seems authentic. William Simpsons' art is moody (he inks himself) and overall effective, though he seems to be trying for a semi-realist style, even as he kind of seems to be rushing through it, with wobbly lines and mis-jointed limbs.
But the plot boasts few surprises and characterization is minor. The vamps are pretty indistinguishable from each other (Skeeter likes to sing -- badly -- but that's her main defining characteristic). It doesn't help that Simpson has trouble drawing different faces -- even with different hair styles, it was hard to figure out who was who. The relationship between Hank and Jenn goes from perfect strangers to sharing a bed without anything inbetween. For that matter, Hank's gradually evolving realization that he's dealing with honest-to-God vampires isn't well detailed, either.
Still, this mini-series spawned two sequels: Vamps: Hollywood and Vein and Vamps: Pumpkin Time, though neither have been collected in a TPB.
Like a lot of the Vertigo line, this gets a "mature readers" warning -- and you'd better believe it. There's gore a-plenty, sex, cussing, and occasionally even some nudity. But if you want something to tickle your mind, you'd be better off raiding the back issue bins for Marvel's Tomb of Dracula comic from the '70s. Ignoring any moral considerations, there's some good dialogue and moody art, but the plot and characterization is too thin to entirely sustain interest.
This is a review of the story as it was serialized in the Vamps mini-series.
Cover price: $__ CDN./ $9.95 USA.
Wake, vol. 4 / 5 : The Sign of the Demons 2003 (SC TPB) 96 pages
Written by Jean David Morvan. Art and colour by Philippe Buchet.
Letters: Ortho. Translation: Joe Johnson.
Originally published in 2001 in Europe
Rating: * * * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Published by NBM Publishing
Suggested (mildly) for mature readers
Wake is a European graphic novel series -- now being re-published in English by an American company -- that can be seen as a bit of a hybrid of Star Trek/Star Wars. The setting is an armada of spaceships cruising through the galaxy, looking for planets to colonize or otherwise contact. And though ostensibly benevolent, there is corruption on board (as evidenced in one of the stories here). The inhabitants of the armada are multi-species, but the central heroine is Navee, a spunky human -- vaguely North American Indian -- but who seems to be the only human in the fleet (a mystery that, presumably, both she and the reader will unravel as the series evolves).
NBM Publishing had started out releasing English translations of each 46 page graphic novel but, either because they were falling behind, or perhaps for sales reasons, with this volume started publishing two stories per volume. The first story (#4) "The Sign of the Demons" and the second (#5, whose title is written in an alien script and so can't be reproduced here).
The first story in this collection has Navee and some compatriots arriving on a primitive planet, looking for some observers who were sent ahead of them but have gone missing. The planet is in the throes of a revolution, as a slave class has risen up against the ruling species, and our heroes get embroiled in it...and learn of a sinister conspiracy in their own fleet that has been exploiting such worlds in the past.
I'll confess, I've had some mixed feelings about European (and non-North American comics in general) that I've read over the years. For all that fans of them often cite them as more sophisticated, more mature than American comics, I often don't feel that way. Worse, not only have they often seemed shallow and thin, but many times have a smary, sophomoric sense of "humour" and a "sense? who needs to make sense?" approach to plotting. But this turned out to be an enjoyable adventure. It's coherent, with a nice mix of larger-than-life comicbooky action, and light-heartedness, with some genuine character detail and serious undercurrents. It's briskly paced, and just complex enough -- in story and character development -- to adequately justify its page count.
There's even a cute, if problematic, idea that some of the planet's inhabitants talk in a way where their dialogue is spelled out phonetically...meaning you sometimes have to sound out a word balloon in order to "hear" what they're saying.
The art has a certain manga influence, with a cartooniness, and Navee as a perky, big eyed heroine. But it's effective and expressive, keeping a jaunty tone and, given the series' emphasis on non human looking aliens, serves the needs of the different species. The backgrounds are beautifully detailed with an at times extraordinary sense of perspective that really makes the vistas seem huge, and Buchet often employs panoramic angles that really make a waterfall, or a sprawling city, fairly leap off the page. The bold, cheery colours help, of course, as does the fact that it's printed in an oversize format that really shows off the art (Buchet often employing 10 or 12 panels per page). Oh, why mince words? The art was enormously attractive and helps to let you lose yourself in this alien environment.
Though a peculiarity of the lettering, which I'm guessing is a result of translating the dialogue into English (and therefore, employing different numbers of words) while employing the original word balloons, is that the size of the words can vary from baloon to balloon
The second story goes an even more political route involving an underclass of aliens aboard the Wake itself who have begun suicide bombings to draw attention to their plight. Naveen becomes involved when they try to kidnap her to blackmail the governments into providing them greater aide. And Naveen begins to sympathize with the terrorists.
It's an interesting, probably controversial story, to craft a tale that is so clearly meant to show the human/sympathetic side of terrorists (even as the writer is not endorsing their actions). It's an ambitious notion...even as the issues are maybe simplified. By making the Ftoross mainly an economic underclass, fighting to end their poverty and disease, Morvan avoids the more complicated dilemmas that are posed by many real world terrorists, whose actions are often motivated by religious and racial factors. Yes, one could argue it's only the systemic poverty and hopelessness of such groups that makes them prey to religious demagogues who twist things into religious and ethnic strifes. But the fact of the matter is, it might be harder for Naveen (and the reader) to empathize with the Ftoross if they, say, wanted death for all heretics, or preached genocide against another ethnic group as such real world terrorists often do. Of course, one could argue that I'm simplifying, as some observers would argue there is a difference in motivation between, say, Palestinian suicide bombers and other Islamic fundamentalist terrorists.
Anyway, the story is well told and well paced.
By telling a self-contained story, each in 46 pages (with lots of panels) Morvan and Buchet have crafted two well told, interesting stories, deftly mixing fun and light-heartedness, with seriousness and even poignancy. For fans of science fiction TV series like the various Star Treks, Wake will be a welcome experience. With breathtaking sets and scenery, and weird and diverse aliens, this volume of Wake seems like a couple of episodes of a TV series -- a TV series with an unlimited budget and special effects, with effective and appealing characters, and an intriguing reality against which the stories can be set.
Visually appealing, and highly entertaining, Wake is quite enjoyable. In fact, it's easy to get dragged along in its wake (oh, I couldn't resist).
Cover price: $__ CDN./ 14.95 USA
The Walking Dead: Days Gone Bye 2004 (SC TPB) 154 pages
Written by Robert Kirkman. Art by Tony Moore.
Black & White: Letters: Robert Kirkman.
Reprints: The Walking Dead #1-6
Additional notes: intro by Kirkman.
Rating: * * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Published by Image Comics
Recommended for Mature Readers.
Perhaps the oddest monsters are the Living Dead. Not to be confused with Zombies or Vampires, The Living Dead are walking corpses that grunt stupidly and subsist on the flesh of the living. They're odd because they aren't rooted in folklore like most monsters, but owe their origin to the 1968 horror film directed by George Romero, Night of the Living Dead. Of course, the basic concept of the malevolent, rotted, ambulatory corpse dates back farther (I'm sure more than a few EC Comics horror stories employed such) and true cinematic connoisseurs will note that Night of the Living Dead itself was basically a rip-off of the 1964 film, The Last Man on Earth, which was based on the novel, I am Legend. But for all intents and purposes, Romero's flick has been shamelessly ripped-off -- or homaged -- in so many horror flicks and short story anthologies since its initial release that it has essentially spawned its own little genre of horror fiction.
It's not every storyteller who can claim to be the father of a genre.
I think Night of the Living Dead is a great horror film. I've occasionally seen other films in the genre that are worth a look, bu I'm not, you know, a nut about the idiom. What I didn't realize, though, until now, is that there are other people who are. Nuts about it, I mean. And comics writer Robert Kirkman is one. Which is why he created The Walking Dead, an on-going comic that follows the few survivors in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by anthropophagic corpses, of which this TPB, Days Gone Bye, collects the first six issues.
To Kirkman, Living Dead stories are as much a genre as a courtroom drama or a western, and as such have their own fixed cliches.. These living dead look like Romero zombies, shuffle like them, can be killed by a blow to the head like them, are more dangerous in large numbers than individually, like Romero's. With some genres, there's often the desire on the part of a writer to add his own spin. I am Legend/The Last Man on Earth, for instance, was technically about vampires...but wth a novel twist on the vampire legend: zombified vamps rather than the usual suave Euro-trash with fangs. Not so Living Dead stories.
Perhaps the only original idea introduced in these first six issues (assuming it is original) is that a living human can disguise himself as a living dead, and fool the other living dead. Which is a nifty idea, and provides this TPB with its most suspenseful sequence.
Kirkman's series even begins with a sequence that seems lifted, down to the overhead angle on the hospital bed shot, from the movie 28 Days Later (which was a Living Dead movie in all but fact). I liked 28 Days later, but it was a wholly generic regurgitation of other, arguably more creative sources (from the novel Day of the Triffids, to the movie Night of the Comet).
But I realize the appeal of Walking Dead (or 28 Days Later) is precisely that it isn't trying to break new ground.
The story concerns Rick Grimes, a small town Georgia police officer who wakes from a coma to find the town mysteriously deserted and over run by living dead. Eventually he hooks up with survivors camped outside Atlanta, some convinced the army will be by soon to rescue them, even while others suspect there's no government left (Atlanta itself is completely overrun by living dead).
If Kirkman isn't offering us much that's new, that doesn't mean it can't still be entertaining.
But a problem is that Kirkman joins the legion of modern comics writers caught up in their own perceived profundity. In his opening introduction, Kirkman waxes on about how ambitious his series will be, and about all the social significance inherent in Living Dead stories, and promises a character growth for Rick so profound we won't recognize him by the series' end. Unfortunately, sometimes setting out to write a "great" story is like trying to run before you can walk. An earlier generation of comics writers (Stan Lee, et al) sometimes wrote "great" stories...but they set out to write "good" stories, and the greatness took care of itself. Kirkman, who maybe sees himself as the next Dave Sim (whose Cerebus epic ran 300 issues), almost seems to be selling this series on where the saga's headed...when he should be focused on where it is now.
These issues aren't bad, but they're kind of slow, with the survivors in their little camp, living from day to day. Kirkman wants to focus on the people more than the monsters. But he doesn't entirely pull it off. Toward the end, one of the group is killed, and the others deliver heartfelt eulogies...for a character that I think barely spoke two lines in the entire book! By the end of six issues, many of the characters remain only vaguely defined.
The characters' reactions to what's going on around them is not entirely convincing. And it's unclear if living dead movies are supposed to be a part of this reality or not. No one says so, but no one seems that surprised by what's occurred (no one asks what are the living dead, how do they function, why) almost as if they were already familiar with the cliche of walking corpses that eat human flesh and so they don't feel a need to understand the mechanism behind it.
And I'm ignoring the dubious notion, shared with 28 Days Later, that a guy could wake from a weeks long coma and be fit enough to run about and fight the living dead.
Kirkman doesn't really explore some of the possible dynamics and conflicts that might arise among people trying to form a kind of mini-society (of a dozen people) from chaos. Rick and his best friend, Shane, argue over whether they should move the camp somewhere safer (Rick's idea) or stay where they are because they'll be easier to find if rescue comes (Shane's idea). They argue about this...but neither seems to consider the idea of bringing it to the others for a vote. Apparently democracy went the way of running water.
The fact that Kirkman himself proudly sells this as high minded stuff means we have to take any (perceived) sub-text seriously. Instead of really exploring the ins and outs of trying to survive after an apocalypse, we get an extended sequence where Rick argues for the importance of letting a seven year old carry a loaded gun (one can imagine the NRA will be putting the Walking Dead on its book club list), to which his wife objects -- until she learns better in a particularly contrived and even sexist scene. In fact, an undercurrent of sexism crops up more than once. From the scene where a woman is chastised for objecting to doing the washing while the men hunt, to a scene where the living dead attack, and all the women panic, some dropping their guns, while even the meekest of the men calmly dispatch the ravenous dead heads.
Of course, even if you take issue with these themes, that's not necessarily enough to ruin a story -- a sub-text is, after all, just that, and secondary to the surface story. I've always had a certain fondness for post-apocalyptic tales, grouchy misanthrope that I am. And the sequence where Rick and another character sneak into Atlanta by disguising themselves as the dead is creepy and suspenseful. But overall, Kirkman seems to deliberately eschew the horror/adventure scenes, without really substituting an affecting human drama. A story arc involving the tension between Rick and Shane doesn't develop all that well, or offer many surprises, though its culmination provides the book's climax.
The black and white (and grey) art by Tony Moore is pretty effective. A mixture of realism and detail with just a touch of caricature (think the great John Severin), it looks almost as though it would be better suited to, say, an autobiographical series about growing up in Brooklyn or something. Which is the point. The flavour Kirkman is going for is one of mundaneness, where real people struggle in this unreal environment. But Moore is also good at drawing the rotting corpses shambling along and the comic, it's worth noting if you didn't realize, isn't for the squeamish. On one hand, because it's drawings, it's not as gory as a comparable motion picture would be...on the other hand, it's actually gorier, because Moore can draw in grislier detail than an image that flashes across the silver screen, and there aren't any puppet strings or matte lines around the creatures to assure you these are just special effects.
Because (in his words) Kirkman is in "for the long haul" in creating his "sprawling epic" one can understand that he doesn't want to play all his cards right away. But, at the same time, this does represent six whole issues of the comic, which ought to be a good sample of the work. This first collection of the Walking Dead is capably put together, but it's deliberately paced, the premise is (intentionally) unoriginal, the characters not especially well defined or that interesting, and the plotting minimal. Other than the sequence of sneaking into Atlanta disguised as walking dead, it's not like each issue sets up a situation to be resolved, or an obstacle to be overcome. Walking Dead: Days Gone Bye is O.K....but we still have to just take Kirkman's word for the greatness to come.
Cover price: $__ CDN./ $9.95 USA.
Written by Garth Ennis. Illustrated by Chris Weston & Gary Erskine; John Higgins; Dave Gibbons; David Lloyd.
War Stories, vol. 1 2002 (SC TPB) 220 pages.
Colours: Pamela Rambo, David Lloyd. Letters: Clem Robins.
Collecting: War Story: Johann's Tiger, War Story: D-Day Dodgers, War Story: Screaming Eagles, War Story: Nightingale (2001-2002)
Rating: * * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Additional notes: afterward by Ennis; bibliography.
Recommended for Mature Readers
Published by Vertigo / DC Comics
War Story is the umbrella title for a series of one shots written by Garth Ennis and drawn by various prominent (usually British like Ennis) artists. These aren't your usually blazin' combat action-adventures, not even of the slightly melancholic, thoughtful variety Robert Kanigher might have turned out for DC Comics years ago. These are bleak, bitter, and bloody.
Vol. 1 collects the first four such stories. Johann's Tiger chronicles the journey of a Germany panzer tank unit in the waning days of the war, as, tired and fed up, they've deserted their position, hoping to find some Americans to surrender to (rather than the more vicious Russians moving in from the East). Along the way they must grapple with their own memories of what they've done and with German military police hunting deserters. D-day Dodgers follows a fresh lieutenant joining up with a battle weary British regiment in Italy -- a regiment not just worn out by fighting, but demoralized by reports from back home that those fighting in the bloody Italian campaign have been labelled D-day dodgers by those erroneously thinking Italy is a cakewalk. Screaming Eagles chronicles an almost idyllic interlude as four American G.I.s, isolated from their c.o., decide to indulge in a little r and r when they come upon a deserted rural estate and are joined by some friendly local girls. The final story, Nightingale, focuses on navel conflict, and a British destroyer that develops a cursed reputation after surviving a mission in which so many others perished, and of the crew's final attempt at redeeming their honour and reputation.
Clearly these projects are labours of love for Ennis and seem fairly meticulously researched -- in some cases (like with Nightingale) the fictional incidents are even inspired by real life ones. Shifting in tone from the gritty and violent, to, at times, witty and whimsical, Ennis handles things well. Johann's Tiger is pretty much what you'd expect, in that it starts out in a combat zone and continues that way for its 50-some pages, but D-day Dodgers is equally effective starting out more relaxed and even witty as the tenderfoot lieutenant joins up with the battle-hardened troops, much of the story set before, rather than during, a conflict.
But I'd argue a problem is maybe that Ennis is too sincere. Clearly he feels strongly about the men who fought and died, and just as clearly he doesn't want to do some gung ho adventure that reduces the brutal combat to a, well, comic book adventure. Though Ennis employs a bitter, "war is hell" mentality, rather than an "anti-war" philosophy. I'm not "anti-war" totally myself, feeling some fights have to be fought, some enemies -- like Nazis -- have to be stopped. But in his desire to act as an advocate for the "boys" Ennis can get a bit reactionary (although, maybe he's just trying to be true to the characters, not necessarily himself), such as a scene where characters belittle those who participated in a pacifist debate that took place at a university...years before anyone knew a war was coming!
As well, in his afterward commenting on Screaming Eagles, Ennis says that if such soldiers did take liberties and engage in looting, who can blame them? Again, that's showing his soldier bias. After all, if the story was about Germans, we would see it as showing how vile they were. And imagine how someone would feel, returning to the home the fled, only to find it looted and wrecked, not by the enemy, but by the guys supposedly sent to liberate you?
But the chief problem, to me, is that in his desire to be realistic, and in his desire to not trivialize the events, Ennis has put his sincerity and good intentions ahead of storytelling. Not too far ahead, perhaps, but enough ahead that the actual plots of the various books can seem a bit weak or meandering. Heck, in three of the four stories, almost everyone dies, making for kind of fatalistic, unsatisfying endings from a story point of view.
Ennis treats us to some good scenes, though often those stray into diatribes as characters start spouting monologues about war and the callous brass that seem too scripted and contrived, but the whole is often less satisfying. Probably the strongest, narrative wise, should be Johann's Tiger and Nightingale. Johnann's Tiger delivering a reasonably suitable ironic end, and Nightingale with its premise of a crew in search of an imagined redemption. But in the case of the latter, Ennis fails to really make it stand out as a human drama, at least for me. With the characters more just there to occupy a page -- heck, I was part way through before I even figured out who was narrating! The art by David Lloyd doesn't help. Lloyd, best known for drawing V for Vendetta, is a striking artist, with a great flare for realism, and moody, shadow drenched images, perfect for the tone of the piece, and the opening scenes of conflict in the perpetually gloomy Arctic. But as with V for Vendetta, Lloyd is a bit weaker if you actually need to tell what's going on, or in clearly distinguishing characters from each other. Ennis' script combined with Lloyd's art makes for a moody war story...that falls short of scoring as a human drama.
Ironically, the most memorable of the tales is Screaming Eagles -- ironic because it's the lighter one, the one where almost no one gets killed. Funnily, I'm not sure it would work as well read on its own. As the story of soldiers taking a break from the war, when we don't actually see them fighting, it maybe is more effective when sandwhiched in between these other, bloodier tales. But Ennis is eschewing the flamboyant or an larger narrative theme, so this lacks the high concept of, say, the whimsical, semi-classic film Le roi de coeur (the King of Hearts) about a soldier stumbling upon a town deserted by all save the inmates of an asylum.
The art throughout is well-done of a realist, meticulously researched variety. It should also be emphasized that this is a "mature readers" book, with some brutal, gory violence and plenty of profanity.
The bottom line with War Story, vol. 1 is that these are good, well researched tales, meant to plunge you into the unvarnished thick of a brutal and uncaring conflict where everything doesn't end happily and the hero doesn't engage in heroic, Saturday matinee daring do. But no one story quite stands out as a well crafted story, with the parts (scenes, dialogue, art) often greater than the whole.
Cover price: $30.95 CDN./ $19.95 USA
or, Back to:
