Frankly, we sometimes find it hard to sign off on that whole Tough Guy motif that so many comic books shoot for. Yes, a surly squint, trusty sidearm, and simple machismo are familiar hero-ingredients, but after a while it can be a bit numbing and silly. Which is why we were pleased that Isotope Comics pointed us to The Annotated Mantooth, by Matt Fraction, Andy Kuhn, and Tim Fisher, in which the alpha-male dialogue is more fitting than it's ever been ... because it's said by a gigantic gorilla. Who knows kung-fu. And carries a gun. And has a hot (human) wife. Who is also a spy. Here, the macho posturing is played for laughs -- f'r instance, one of Rex's nemesis (a sex-starved talk show host named Ophaph Manfrey) curses, "we'll meet again, Mantooth, oh yes ... and you will hit this s** all night long. HA HA HA HA HA HA!" We do love some good old fashioned postmodern irony, and Mantooth fits the bill, from the evil robot named "World's Greatest Grandpa" to a plot to make zombies out of the world's Nobel Prize winners. And the annotations -- inspired, we are told, by an annotated volume of Shakespeare -- reveal both the comic's script and the author's intentions, both of which make for an illuminating read.
We also enjoyed the genre-experimentation of "Doc Frankenstein," a series of books set in a universe in which Frankenstein's monster survived and evolved into a mercenary, a liberal activist, and an enemy of a deranged version of the Catholic church. The concept was created by Geof Darrow and Steve Skroce, but the story is by the Wachoski brothers, and like The Matrix, this Frankenstein story is long on motif, symbolism, and vagaries, but provides plenty of fodder for armchair philosophy. Having raised the ire of conservatives via ungodly creation, support of Lincoln, operation of speakeasies, and applauding of Roe v. Wade, Frankenstein has assembled a colony of brilliant outcasts, which comes under attack from a destructive Christian Air Force. The cruelty with which people of faith are depicted is a bit shocking, and disappointingly one-dimensional. That is but one of the book's many issues which could make for rewarding conversations, or extremely tedious pontification, depending on with what breed of comic-reader you choose to associate.
After the jump: navel-gazing fish, a crime-fighting rock band, and the Fantastic Four are SOOOOOOO CUTE!!!
In his review of Brokeback Mountain, Ebert says "The more specific a film is, the more universal, because the more it understands individual characters, the more it applies to everyone," and that the movie could be about someone who always wanted to be in the Marines, or to be a cabinetmaker. Adam Sacks' Salmon of Doubt is not a very specific story; it follows an introverted salmon from hatching to maturity to spawning and beyond. Henry, our hero, enjoys adventures such as having a crush on a girl about which "the whole school knows;" declaring that "the world just got huge" upon entering the ocean; and musing, "why are we swimming upstream?" "Because everyone else is?" guesses a companion." "Yeah, but what's the point? ... Don't you want to do something more with your life?" Henry wonders. Waaaaaaaait a minute! This isn't a story about fish at all, is it? The fish are SYMBOLS! Symbols for PEOPLE! ...Whoa.
Oh how we love all things Japanese. Zeb Wells and Seth Fisher have brought the Fantastic Four and Iron Man (a lesser-known robotic hero) to Japan to fight large scary monsters, with Katamari-Damacy-style art and dialogue best described as "zany." (Our favorite part: a friendly monster places a truck between the torn-off walls of two buildings, then offers it to Iron Man; "I ... I think he just made me a sandwich," the hero stammers.) It's a boffo story as well; we learn of impending planetary doom and bizarre monster-worshipping cults at a fun, bouncy pace that leaves us craving more. MORE!
Mark Andrew Smith and Dan Hipp's The Amazing Joy Buzzards ain't no "Scott Pilgrim" (a series on which we've had a serious crush ever since we read it) but it's nothing to sneeze at, neither. Reviewed recently by SFist_Jeremy, who stumbled across them at Comic-Con, the books are a whimsical crime-fighting fun with a thee-man rock band, their mythical Mexican wrestler friend, and a clever cache of evil geniuses, mummies, and pink robots. The characters come off a bit flat at times, seldom deviating from their roles as suave frontman, brainy strategist, and quiet mystery-friend. But their adventures solidly rock -- giant monsters, evil spirits, zombies in Hollywood, sure we love all those things -- which is almost enough to keep you from noticing that the characters themselves don't experience much growth.
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Iron Man was never a robot. He's a guy wearing an armored suit.
good grief. if you want to be technical about things, he's got robotic components -- tony stark's original name for it was "the human machine," after all, and the whole reason that james rhodes was an unsuitable replacement was because the ironman helmet's circuitry wasn't calibrated for his brain. not to mention, the chip in stark's spine is what allows him to walk. he's damn well close enough to robotic for me.