This is what happens when Techland goes to the comic book store: we end up discussing what we picked up. This week, Evan Narcisse, Douglas Wolk, Matt Peckham and Graeme McMillan talk about the debut issues of Nonplayer and Marvel’s crossover event Fear Itself.
GRAEME: So here’s how I described Fear Itself #1 to a friend this morning: “It’s like Civil War rewritten by Geoff Johns and Glenn Beck.” There’s the “ripped from the headlines” aspect of Civil War, only done really, really clumsily and awkwardly. Seriously, that two page scene about the family leaving Broxton because of everything that’s been happening? Ouch. I can’t believe THAT was the scene that Marvel released as a pre-release preview. But it’s mixed with the “mysterious objects beyond human ken” fetish from Johns’ Green Lantern/Blackest Night/Brightest Day run. Which, when I put it like that, sounds a lot more enjoyable than this actually felt.
DOUGLAS: I’m just waiting to see if the mysterious things that are seeking out the Worthy are all hammers like Thor’s and Sin’s. And, if so, if they’re color-coded. So toyetic! Gotta get ’em all!
GRAEME: I’m not sure that anything about this was bad, exactly… Well, okay, maybe a lot of the dialogue was a little obvious and on the nose. (“It was chaos. People just SCREAMING– At each other’s THROATS– And I couldn’t STOP it.” “Steve–Buddy– Don’t take this the wrong way, but… Well, ‘Captain America’ doesn’t come with the same cachet it once did.” Why, thank you, Mr. Obvious.) And some of the pacing felt a little off, but as the first issue of a major event book, this didn’t make any massive mistakes. So why did it feel so underwhelming?
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Definitely not underwhelming was the art. I’ve long been a fan of Stuart Immonen, and his work here is just great (helped by Laura Martin’s colors, it should be pointed out). Clear and easy to read without being bland, and stylish without being loaded with codes and tics and showing off, Immonen is one of the strongest artists Marvel has. It’s nice to see him get a series of the prestige that he’s deserved for years.
I don’t know; I didn’t dislike this, but I found nothing here that wowed me, or made me particularly curious to read further or even care about the event in general. It felt clumsily-written but well-intentioned, and furthered my idea of Marvel as the comic company that really, really wants you to feel like it reads the news every now and again.
EVAN: Twitter spoiled some of this for me this morning, specifically the Odin characterization and the social commentary stuff. Now, I’m not spoiler-phobic. Generally, when I get spoiled, I want to see how the stuff gets executed anyway.
And when I got Fear Itself #1 and read it, I was put off by how safe it all felt–like there’s some sort of editorial algorithm at work that spits out a beat sheet. I’m going to give Fraction a lot of room here, because he’s generally a thoughtful writer who executes well. The fact remains, though, that this is a lot of vanilla set-up. I’m going to lay the blame on the whole latter-day event comics phenomenon. Still, because it’s Fraction, I wanted this to be different. And that’s the thing: if we have to keep on having event comics because that’s The Way Things Are Now, then, for the love of God, somebody take some risks. Give me something more personality-driven or something more idiosyncratic and feverish, please.
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DOUGLAS: Fraction’s story actually reminds me a bit of the first issue of Final Crisis in some ways–an event comic that actually was incredibly idiosyncratic (and paid the price for it in terms of some of the audience response)–especially the way it tries to build the sense that the prevailing tone of the world it’s set in is changing and getting chillier. But at the end of this first issue, I still don’t have a clear sense of what Fear Itself is about–in terms of either its plot or its themes–and that’s a big problem. (I also picked up Fear Itself: The Home Front #1, and that didn’t help much either.) It doesn’t help that Fraction’s story tries to avoid obviousness by simply not stating the obvious stuff. The opening scene is clearly inspired by the Muslim-community-center/”mosque at Ground Zero” fake controversy, but the fact that Fraction doesn’t actually tell us what the riot is about kneecaps its dramatic effectiveness. “The Serpent is back,” we learn later: yeah? What serpent? Everyone seems to know except us!
EVAN: I keep on coming back to the way Odin was written. While he did come off as uncharacteristically petulant and jerky based on past interpretations of Odin, there was some spice to it. But even that was undercut by the nagging sensation that this Odin was meant to ping back to the way Anthony Hopkins is going to play him in the movie. So it makes you wonder about the, I dunno, provenance of the story. As in why does it exist? Fraction’s talked about the psychological underpinnings of Fear Itself–daddy issues, generational gaps, etc.–and it’s all there. But the execution of that stuff is so blunt that it leaves me cold.
And, again, this just feels weird coming from Fraction, a writer who I mostly like. Casanova‘s a meta-aware stew of genre staples, trippy LSD personas and fluid character relationships. It’s fun. On Iron Man, Fraction’s dug so deep in Tony Stark’s character construction that he can turn canonical behaviors into something fresh and compelling. Like Graeme, I didn’t hate this comic, but it underwhelmed me in terms of plot.
Briefly on Immonen: the guy’s a god. By my count, he’s had three distinct styles, and he’s brilliant in each idiom. It’s always clean, with great character acting and excellent composition. Long may he reign.
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DOUGLAS: Evan, what are the three styles you’re counting? There’s the one here, the one from Moving Pictures, and…? (Arguably, there are two others on the cover of the forthcoming Centifolia!)
EVAN: I feel like his early Legion stuff was a bit different (lighter in line eight and showing some Kevin Maguire influence) than his mainstream superhero fare, where the Fear Itself look descends from. Nextwave was filled with skinnier body types and super-heavy figure outlines; it felt… punkier? And there’s a bit more cartooniness to his Ultimate Spidey art, to my eye. Maybe other folks see them as the same thing, but I feel like he’s bringing different stuff to each project.
DOUGLAS: True–he’s really good at developing a new look-and-feel for every project–and I actually also see him adopting some of this series’ look from the last few years’ worth of event comics here. This has a bit of a Siege vibe to it, in some ways
MATT: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I’ll play the role of the guy who hasn’t paid attention to mainstream continuity since Messiah Complex. So far, not really getting it. Okay, wait, I get it: Another mildly cosmic crossover event that name-checks and pulls in a bit of bubblegum social commentary. It’s like a superhero Venn diagram skewed Norse-ward.
I’m trying to decide whether I agree with Graeme that it’s some mutant Johns-by-way-of-Beck thing. It’s obviously culture-checking with the financial crisis and the so-called Ground Zero mosque riot, but it’s kind of taking the Michael Lewis (The Big Short) Wall Street screwed Main Street angle, not the fringe conspiracy-theory blame-government-for-everything one (that, and mobs seem to be mobs in any culture–what do you do?). I’m also not sure–yet–that it’s tapping into the series-eponymous idea that we often box at shadows. We surely do, but I see none of that registering in the storytelling here.
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Much as I’ve liked Immonen’s work in past books–his Ultimate FF stuff is still my favorite–his heroes look.. off (Tony “Lenin” Stark atop Avengers Tower, for instance), and I’m just not into the slightly squashed heads thing–as if I’m watching a full-screen video feed on a widescreen panel. I have to admire the fine background detail (no lazy scribbler is Immonen) and the general symmetric consistency of everything, but nothing about his style leaps out here and says “this is who I am.” I know, sacrilege (or just “mainstream for mainstream’s sake”).
My favorite moment–the only really clever one in the book–was the top panel intro to Broxton. Your eyes first snag on the city text, then the fanboy-tour guide who almost seems to inhale, before the bullhorn bellows out the word balloon. Three lovely moments in a single panel, celebrating an effect that only works in this medium.
DOUGLAS: I’ve read this issue a few times now, and in some ways I’m still trying to come to grips with it. I get that Matt Fraction’s trying to do some kind of grand Norse-theological cosmic epic in the Mighty Marvel Manner that also speaks to America As We Know It; he’s a very ambitious and very talented writer, but I don’t think this particular ambition and his particular talents are clicking together yet. And there are moments of tone-deaf bombast in here: “I now summon… THE WORTHY.” “Behold: I am… resurrected…” “I only pray I am not too late.”
That said: Stuart Immonen is one of those artists who always just nails whatever he’s working on–layout, pacing, page design, character design. (Does this series make him the first artist to draw event/crossover titles for both Marvel and DC, since he drew The Final Night too?) Again, this is a case where the fact that certain little details have been taken care of convinces me that the ambiguous stuff is going somewhere–making almost all the word balloons circular, a la John Workman’s Thor lettering, signals on a nearly subliminal level that this is basically a Thor story. At the same time, there are a couple of weird little lapses in the writing that work the opposite way: “My hammer–a legendary weapon of unspeakable violence–of which only I am worthy to wield–hungers for this.” (Where’d that second “of” come from?)
Also worth noting: 44 pages of story is a nice, solid deal for $3.99. I don’t imagine it’s what we’re going to be getting after this issue, but it’s a good gesture.
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GRAEME: Moving on to Nonplayer #1: First things first–this is a BEAUTIFUL book. The star of the show is definitely the art, with Nate Simpson’s work having echoes of Jamie McKelvie, Josh Middleton and even a little bit of Brandon Graham (Graham’s pin-up at the back really pushing that idea home, I think). It’s not just the spare, open linework that won me over, though – and the design Simpson gives his panels and pages, such space used to so well! – but the color, as well; every hue is so well-chosen, it’s just an amazing, amazing thing to look at.
The problem for me is, I looked at it more than I read it. Maybe it’s my discomfort with the fantasy genre in general, but I really had a hard time getting into the story at first, with tropes that seemed very familiar and a feeling of, I don’t know, forced alienness, perhaps, about the whole thing. The fantasy scenes felt like they were trying too hard, perhaps? And although the book kept taking more and more steps towards something much more familiar and mundane, the writing still hadn’t won me over by the end of the issue, again because of the familiarity. I felt like we’ve seen the slacker savant character escaping into a fantasy world done before too many times to be compelling, especially with the well-meaning-but-nagging mother there to push the plot ahead. By the end of the issue, no character felt real to me, which made everything seem very inconsequential. It’s a shame; I can’t tell if I’m missing something, or whether this just isn’t for me, but I finished the issue slightly disappointed. The art deserved a better story to illustrate, I think. But what do you guys think?
EVAN: Graeme, stop taking all the words out of my head! Now I have nothing to write.
Seriously, I agree that the art outweighed anything the reader got in terms of plot. I gravitated toward this book because Simpson has a creative background in video games, having most recently done work for Gas Powered Games’ Demigod. And that background shows here, as Simpson shows off massive amounts of talent at world-building and layering concepts on top of one another. The designs, the colors and proportions are all cleverly, invitingly imagined and, holy crap, his draftsmanship is off the charts. He shows supreme confidence in his linework, but doesn’t make the mistake of overdrawing either. I see some McKelvie in there, too, Graeme, but I was also reminded of Geof Darrow and Michael Kaluta.
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But the story felt like three teases stacked on top of each other. I actually wanted to see what the intrigue was going to be in that first Final Fantasy-esque world, and then I wanted to see more of the interstital dreamscape gameworld, too. When we finally get to “reality,” it’s all a bit too familiar in its mundanity. Simpson voices the characters well, but the good dialogue’s in service of a plot that most gamers and comic nerds are already overly familiar with.
I was left feeling like the art and the plot are at war here. I want to learn more about this world (worlds?), its history and the rules that govern it but I don’t want to have to do it through the storyline that it seems we’re gonna get.
But, goddamn it, I may just show up again for more of this art.
DOUGLAS: One of my very favorite things as a comics reader is when a cartoonist I’ve never heard of before suddenly shows up with a fully formed aesthetic. It doesn’t happen very often–it usually takes an artist about a thousand pages (the “10,000 hour rule”) to figure out where he or she is going. But it sometimes happens. Last year, it was Adam Hines with Duncan the Wonder Dog; this year, it’s Nate Simpson with Nonplayer. When I first saw preview pages of this first issue a few weeks ago, I thought “this is fantastic; what’s this guy done before?” (Like you folks, I also immediately thought of both Geof Darrow and Jamie McKelvie, who are not reference points I’d ordinarily associate as a pair.)
Turned out Simpson hadn’t actually published comics before, as far as I know–although he did work on an abandoned project a few years ago. Instead, he’s been working in game design since 1993 (which makes sense, given the “gamification of life” theme and general design sense of Nonplayer), and his bio at his site says “he is currently taking a year off to learn how to make comics.” I admire that attitude–partly because he was approaching it with a student’s perspective, rather than saying he was just going to jump into doing comics.
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And that kind of preparation shows in the work. Simpson’s visual worldbuilding is amazing, obviously. From the very first panel, he establishes the kind of setting we’re dealing with, and the two outward jumps (from the sword-and-sorcery fantasy to the kind of fantasy antechamber and then to Dana’s “real world” life) both immediately communicate a lot about their respective settings. This issue is full of the little details that demonstrate how fully thought-out everything is: when your lighting design includes sunlight through leaf cover, you can get away with whatever any color effects you want thereafter, you know? (I love the detail of the VR headset changing color as Dana exits her fantasy, too, and throwaway lines like “the Museum of Pre-Incident Tech.”)
Nonplayer actually made me think a bit of one of Carla Speed McNeil’s Finder books, Dream Sequence–they’re both about the idea of VR gaming, but this also seems like it’s going to be about a gifted artist coming to terms with her imagination. That’s not exactly an unusual first-book theme, and as graceful as his writing is, I wish it were as virtuosic as his artwork. Still, I’m happy to see wherever Simpson feels like going with this. I can already think of a bunch of people I know who don’t read a lot of comics but who are going to want to see this one.
MATT: My first-read reaction to Nonplayer is pretty simple: Nate Simpson can sketch, ink, and color like no one’s business. And: Nate Simpson should stick to sketching, inking, and coloring like no one’s business.
Characters walk in, utter slightly idiosyncratic lines, then vanish from scene. Repeat with swords, flying cat-bats, nagging parents, and a ninja scooter. And I’m not sure the slantwise paneling and sequencing work for me during that epic mid-book battle. I get that battles are confusing. I don’t need to get it literally.
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DOUGLAS: See, I didn’t find the writing confusing (although it took me a couple of read-throughs to straighten everything out)–it read to me like the whole story’s pulling back from inner narrative to outer narrative. We pretty much get enough of each level of the story to have a sense of what’s happening, even if not everything’s explained… it seemed to me like the elisions here are intentional as part of Simpson’s world-building–things that don’t add up yet seem to be there to make us say “huh, that doesn’t seem to be acting up.”
MATT: All told, a very pretty book, and I’d pick it up over Fear Itself #1 for Simpson’s art alone, but nothing about the “Sexy geek-girl plays MMOs in some weird Tad Williams Otherland future-world” narrative grabbed me. In fact–call me crazy–I almost wish Simpson wrote this thing word-free. You can linger over a single panel for ages, sliding around the micro-scalloped lines of the fantasy scenes or the sparer symmetric ones of mundane “reality.” The art’s simply packed–reread without scanning the word balloons for the arguably superior experience.