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Raiders, Vol. 1

January 22, 2010 by Katherine Dacey

Raiders_v1 If I’ve learned anything from my limited study of horror films, it’s this: zombies come in two flavors. The first type are slow, shambling, and stupid, posing little threat to the hero until they reach a critical mass — say, enough to surround the pub or shopping mall where the hero has hunkered down to await help. The second type are swift of foot and mind, making them a far greater menace to humanity. Raiders is positively crawling with the second type, giving this preposterous yet entertaining story a jolt of visceral energy. Figuratively and literally.

Raiders‘ plot hinges on the kind of conspiracy theory that’s the stock-and-trade of Dan Brown. Early in volume one, we learn that Jesus’ blood was collected by His disciplines in five bottles, or chrisms, which were stashed in churches around the world for safekeeping. His blood is a highly desirable commodity, as it has the power to heal life-threatening wounds and resurrect the dead. Not surprisingly, numerous parties are interested in finding the chrisms, though for very different reasons. Professor Wilter Langhem, for example, wants to unravel one of the Church’s oldest and deepest mysteries, whereas Lamia, a zombie with a passion for Gothic fashion, hopes Christ’s blood will end her earthly purgatory.

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Full House, Vol. 2

January 22, 2010 by MJ 11 Comments

Full House, Vol. 2
By Sooyeon Won
Published by NETCOMICS

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In the aftermath of their engagement party, Ellie and Ryder progress from passing angry notes to bickering openly in the privacy of their newly shared home. Despite their mutual show of antipathy, they are unmistakably drawn to each other—Ryder to Ellie’s fearlessness and self-confidence, and Ellie to Ryder’s surprisingly considerate nature. Any hint of potential romance is nipped quickly in the bud, however, by the reappearance of Ellie’s ex-boyfriend, Felix, who turns up on their doorstep begging for forgiveness. Determined not to play the fool, Ryder uses his next film shoot as an excuse to stay away from Ellie and her resuscitated relationship, but when an opportunity arises for him to uncover her true intentions regarding Full House, he finds himself pursuing her in an unexpected fashion.

“They always come sliming back.” This wise statement regarding the nature of ex-boyfriends was uttered by an old friend of mine back in the day, and it works surprisingly well as the theme of this installment of Full House. Though Felix makes a fine show of his contrition and heartfelt affection for Ellie, it’s hard to forget that he was the guy who so brutally dumped her for not being eager enough to jump into the sack. Though it seems obvious that Ellie will eventually throw him over for Ryder (who at least gets her excited, if not quite in the way she’d like) execution is the key to this series’ charm, not result, so it would be a terrible shame to rush.

Though this series is, frankly, stunningly predictable, to leave it at that would be a grave oversimplification. Manhwa-ga Sooyeon Won has an extraordinary talent for turning romantic cliché into storytelling gold, a skill she would later refine to perfection in her outrageously poetic boys’ love epic, Let Dai. Her secret to this is brazen excess, which in this case applies to the series’ endless stream of classic screwball comedy banter—precisely the thing that makes the story so much fun in the first place. Will Ellie and Ryder get together? Of course. Will they face numerous rivals, career obstacles, and ridiculous misunderstandings along the way? Sure! Frankly, none of it matters as long as they keep talking … and talking and talking.

While the narrative trajectory of Full House may not leave much to question, the real mystery here is why, with recent acquisitions such as Full House, Please, Please Me, and Small-Minded Schoolgirls, NETCOMICS has not already become the prime online destination for grown-up women who read comics. For fun, sexy comedy with a fantastic vintage feel, check out Full House.

Complimentary online access provided by the publisher.

Comic, Vol. 8

January 21, 2010 by MJ 1 Comment

Comic, Vol. 8
By Ha SiHyun
Published by Yen Press

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Picking up immediately where volume seven left off, Patrick and Alice impulsively seek each other out in a last-ditch effort to rescue their relationship. Unfortunately for Patrick, it is in this crucial moment that he discovers just how much his single lie has cost him. Despite her desperate desire for Patrick, when Alice finds herself stranded in the rain with only enough change for one phone call, it is Neil she banks on as the reliable choice. Truthfully, she’s not wrong. Neil turns out to be the ideal boyfriend—attentive, affectionate, playful, kind—all the things Patrick never was, even at his best.

As Alice’s new relationship goes public, Daria seizes the the chance to reprise her play for Patrick, this time yielding more satisfying results. The most significant development in this installment, however, is that after four frustrating volumes, both Alice and Patrick remember that they are manhwa-ga.

Does that last line sound sarcastic? It might be just a little. For the most part though, it’s just plain gratifying to see even the slightest hint of the story’s original premise creeping its way back to the page. And though the manhwa-ga plotline is hardly front-and-center, it is actually responsible for a few of the volume’s most amusing bits. It is fairly hilarious to watch, for instance, as Neil, filling in as an assistant on Patrick’s manhwa, cluelessly asks his best friend for advice on kissing his new girlfriend—a request Patrick ultimately fulfills by handing him an armful of sunjeong and shojo comics.

What works less well in this volume are some of the standard romance scenarios, like a tedious chapter near the end of the volume in which Neil’s plans for an intimate evening with Alice are relentlessly interrupted by his meddling sister. Yet, while scenes like this play out too obviously to be believed, others sparkle with joyful sunjeong goodness, though they tend to weigh heavily against the main romantic pairing.

“I feel full even when I don’t eat. I have fun even when we don’t do anything,” Alice muses to herself in the midst of a giddy afternoon date with Neil. “The guy I used to like never made me feel this good. Ever.” Reading something like that, it’s hard to feel enthusiastic about the prospect of a break-up, fated romance be damned!

Regardless of this volume’s minor shortcomings, it’s really nice to see this series finally back on track as something just a little more interesting than a standard high-school romance. Let’s hope volume nine continues the trend!

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Immortal Rain 1-2 by Kaori Ozaki: A-

January 20, 2010 by Michelle Smith

Machika Balfaltin’s grandfather, Zol, was a renowned bounty hunter/assassin, but there was one man he could never catch: Methuselah, an immortal with a price on his head. Machika, like your typical fourteen-year-old, is convinced that she can do anything and is determined to settle her grandfather’s unfinished business. Her attempt to capture Methuselah goes wrong, however, when a rival group of bounty hunters swoops in to take the credit. Methuselah allows himself to be hauled off to jail, whereupon Machika breaks him out because he’s her prey. Of course, now there’s a price on her head, too, so she’s got to leave town. From there, Machika and Methuselah, who reveals that his name is actually Rain Jewlitt, get into a series of adventures usually involving people trying to nab Rain and figure out the secret of immortality, which is portrayed as much more of a curse than a blessing.

While the adventures are interesting enough, it’s the bond between the two characters that’s really the most fascinating aspect of Immortal Rain. Machika still maintains that she’s going to kill Rain one day, but quickly grows frustrated with his passivity regarding his fate and soon nurtures a desire to help him, including finding a way to make him human again. Initially, Rain attempts to keep his distance. He likes people but, as he puts it, “eventually everyone must leave this earth at a speed I can’t keep up with.” When he tries to refuse Machika’s help, it hurts her, but he’s reluctant to keep her with him because her life is so vulnerable. “So… would you hold me like I’m glass? I won’t break,” she replies. It’s clear that he’s unaccustomed to someone showing such fierce concern for his present rather than the promise of an unlimited future that he represents, and by the end of volume two he seems to have finally accepted her as a companion.

In addition to creating this pair of likable characters, Ozaki also parcels out bits of Rain’s backstory with a sure hand. Obscure hints and scraps of information offered in volume one are already taking shape into something that makes more sense by volume two, suggesting that answers will continue to be furnished at a satisfying rate. It would seem that he was somehow involved in some scientific experiments 600 years ago—the remnants of which are being excavated by a company that employs Sharem, an intriguing villainess who is initially introduced as a high-kicking ice queen but is gradually revealed to have inner pain of her own—and is destined to meet someone from that time who’s on the verge of being reincarnated. Too, he was once in love with a dark-haired woman whose violin is his most treasured possession.

Missteps are few, but there are a couple of bothersome things in these first two volumes. First, while a lot of the humor is genuinely amusing (I especially adore anything having to do with Machika’s pet, Kiki), some of it falls flat, especially the inept Evans siblings who attempt to capture Rain with a thoroughly ill-conceived plan involving a train, a bridge, and a 12-year-old girl piloting a mecha. Also, while less of a problem in volume two, volume one contains some passages of narration that don’t make much sense. Here’s an example:

Look. Even if you open your ears you can’t hear… the sound of the heart… if only just once.

That sounds like the kind of poorly translated English you’d find on a t-shirt in Shinjuku!

Another great point in Immortal Rain’s favor is Ozaki’s incredibly appealing art. Although the series runs in the shoujo magazine Wings and Rain technically qualifies as a bishounen, the art fosters more of a shounen adventure feeling, creating an almost palpable sense of the wide world around the central characters. The nonverbal storytelling is also great, especially in Rain’s expressive reactions to some of the things Machika says and does. Somehow, his eyes manage to convey fondness, loneliness, regret, and puzzlement simultaneously; the effect is quite lovely.

I look forward to seeing how the story develops in subsequent volumes, although I do wonder whether TOKYOPOP intends to continue releasing the series. They’ve released eight volumes in English so far, and while new volumes in Japan appear at a rate of one per year there are still ten of them out now with no US solicitation of volume nine on the horizon. It may not be time to fret quite yet, but there’s definitely reason for concern.

A little Twilight, more xxxHolic

January 20, 2010 by MJ 17 Comments

This is just barely link-blogging, since I believe I have only two links. Still, it saves me from being disagreeable all over the internet, something I try to avoid.

First, EW has an exclusive look at the cover for Yen Press’ upcoming Twilight graphic novel, as well as a single sample page. The word floating around Twitter was “hideous” but I admit I think it’s kind of pretty. Not the cover so much (lifeless but inoffensive) as the interior artwork. I haven’t been looking forward to reading Twilight, despite my highly positive take on its announcement, but I gotta admit my inner teen is a tiny bit smitten with that sparkling vampire’s sensitive eyes. Oh, inner teen, must you humiliate me in this way? Must you??

Meanwhile, The Hooded Utilitarian continues their xxxHolic Roundtable with most participants not finding much besides the artwork to enjoy….

Happy Cafe, Vol. 1

January 19, 2010 by Katherine Dacey

Two Guys, a Girl, and a Pastry Shop might be a better title for this rom-com about a teen who waits tables at the neighborhood bakery, as the characters are so nondescript I had trouble remembering their names. The girl, Uru, is as generic as shojo heroines come: she’s a spunky, klutzy high school student who blushes and stammers around hot guys, bemoans her flat chest, and wins people over with her intense sincerity. The two guys — Shindo, a moody jerk whose boorishness masks a kind nature, and Ichiro, a cheerful slacker — are just as forgettable, despite the manga-ka’s efforts to assign them novel tics and traits. Shindo, for example, turns out to be a genius who finished high school at fifteen, while Ichiro suffers from hunger-induced narcolepsy, keeling over any time his blood sugar drops.

The plot, like the characters, has a similarly generic quality. At the beginning of volume one, Uru walks past Cafe Bonheur, overhearing a conversation between two giggling, satisfied customers. She then resolves to land a gig at the “Happy Cafe,” as she calls it, but is nearly defeated by the job interview: she accidentally breaks the front door, endures rude comments from Shindo about her youthful appearance (she looks ten), and nearly falls over Ichiro, who’s sprawled, unconscious, on the kitchen floor. (Shindo administers first aid in the form of a bun, reviving his co-worker.) Undeterred, Uru pleads with Shindo for a job, eventually persuading him to hire her on a trial basis. Broken dishes and spilled coffee notwithstanding, Uru quickly insinuates herself into Shindo and Ichiro’s lives.

Happy Cafe aims for a mixture of wacky comedy and heartfelt drama, but doesn’t quite succeed on either count. The humor is mild but not very funny; the few good gags — Uru’s super-strength, Ichiro’s ability to nap anywhere, anytime — are repeated with little variation until they cease to register as jokes. The drama, too, is tepid and predictable; every conflict is resolved so neatly and sweetly that a strong whiff of pointlessness hangs over the whole enterprise. Early in the volume, for example, we learn that Uru is living on her own, thanks to her mother’s decision to marry a younger man. Uru misses her mom terribly, but worries that her presence interferes with mom’s new relationship. So far, so good: the idea of a mother allowing her sixteen-year-old to live alone is a little ridiculous, but the set-up could yield some juicy, emotional scenes. Matsuzuki squanders that potential by resolving the conflict in a matter of three pages: mom and stepdad beg Uru to return, Uru asserts her desire to visit but maintain her independence, and her parents shower her with affection. The end.

Matsuzuki’s artwork is serviceable, if not memorable. Her characters are virtually indistinguishable from the cast of Me & My Brothers, right down to their perfectly messy hair, rail-thin frames, and noseless faces. Matsuzuki struggles with more ambitious perspective drawings; some of her attempts to place characters on different levels in the picture plane result in unnaturally foreshortened bodies. Where Matsuzuki’s art shines is in her characters’ nuanced facial expressions. Uru’s round, open visage registers a convincing range of emotions, from embarrassment to loneliness to indignation. On those occasions when Uru smiles — sweetly or with mischievous intent — it’s easy to grasp why the terminally grouchy Shindo keeps her around, as the character radiates joy.

If I were to compare Happy Cafe with baked goods, I’d say it reminds me of a Duncan Hines cake mix: it’s easy to follow, yields predictable results, and, while sweet, is curiously bland. Readers in search of manga comfort food could certainly do worse than this sugary dramedy, though I’d steer more adventurous souls towards The Antique Bakery or Cafe Kichijoji de, both of which are funnier, tastier, and sexier than this by-the-book shojo title.

HAPPY CAFE, VOL. 1 • BY KOU MATSUZUKI • TOKYOPOP • 192 pp. • RATING: TEEN

Happy Cafe, Vol. 1

January 19, 2010 by Katherine Dacey

…

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl: A-

January 19, 2010 by Michelle Smith

From the back cover:
Willy Wonka’s famous chocolate factory is opening at last! But only five lucky children will be allowed inside. And the winners are: Augustus Gloop, an enormously fat boy whose hobby is eating; Veruca Salt, a spoiled-rotten brat whose parents are wrapped around her little finger; Violet Beauregarde, a dim-witted gum-chewer with the fastest jaws around; Mike Teavee, a toy pistol-toting gangster-in-training who is obsessed with television; and Charlie Bucket, Our Hero, a boy who is honest and kind, brave and true, and good and ready for the wildest time of his life!

Review:
I’m not sure why we spent what seemed to be the entire last week of fourth grade sprawled on the carpet of the media center wearing out one of those new-fangled videotapes of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory by watching it over and over again, but sprawl and watch we did. I don’t remember anyone complaining when, after the movie ended, it was immediately begun again, but perhaps my recollection is clouded by how much I loved (and still do) the film. Until now, however, I had never actually read the original book though I’ve owned it for several years.

As most people probably know, this is the story of humble and poor Charlie Bucket who loves chocolate very much but must be content with nightly meals of watery cabbage soup. As luck would have it, a huge and world-famous chocolate factory is on his way to school and every day he pauses to sniff the air near Wonka’s Factory, though his family is so poor they can only afford to give him one bar of chocolate each year on his birthday.

When Wonka announces his Golden Ticket contest—in which five Golden Tickets are hidden in Wonka chocolates, each entitling one child to a tour of the facilities and a life-time supply of candy—Charlie tries not to get his hopes up, but is nonetheless disappointed when his birthday bar fails to contain the golden prize. A second bar paid for from his Grandpa Joe’s secret fund yields the same results, and Charlie has almost given up hope when a lucky dollar found on the sidewalk buys him a bar containing the fifth and final Golden Ticket. The next day, Charlie and Grandpa Joe join four other children and their parents in a tour of the fantastic factory. Each of the other children has a flaw—eating too much, being spoiled, chewing gum constantly, and watching too much television—and is disqualified along the way by some means connected to it. In the end, only Charlie remains and it’s a happy ending for the well-deserving child.

Although the basic flow of the plot is the same and indeed, some lines of dialogue are used verbatim in the film (“Violet, you’re turning violet, Violet!”) there are some differences. No one in the book sings except for the Oompa Loompas (who are not orange and are sometimes female), and their songs are not nearly as catchy in print form. Charlie and Grandpa Joe do not commit the grievous sin of sampling fizzy lifting drinks, although the beverages and the method to combat their lifting powers are discussed, and Veruca’s exit is facilitated by nut-evaluating squirrels rather than an egg meter. I seem to recall that Tim Burton’s film version (which is pretty awful) keeps the squirrels, so perhaps special effects in 1971 were simply not up to the task of bringing them to life on the screen. Most importantly, there’s neither Mr. Slugworth nor any testing of Charlie to see whether he will protect Wonka’s secrets. When I was a kid I didn’t like that part because Wonka was mean to Charlie, but now that it’s gone, I find I miss it. In the book, Charlie is an observer who wins mostly by process of elimination, but in the film he’s required to prove his goodness and is a more interesting character.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is thoroughly charming and is undoubtedly a classic of children’s fiction. The fact remains, however, that I still like the movie more. Gene Wilder brings so much to the role of Willy Wonka, retaining his eccentricities but also endowing him with both warmth and menace, that even the original pales by comparison. Add to this the film’s more fleshed-out portrayal of Charlie and my choice is clear.

Avatar by John Passarella: C+

January 18, 2010 by Michelle Smith

From the back cover:
When Angel arrived in Los Angeles, he assumed he’d find enough evil to keep himself busy for, well… eternity. Up until now, he’s had his hands full in real time. So when Cordelia suggests starting up a web site for their detective agency, he’s hesitant. As Doyle puts it, “People in trouble want to interface with a face.”

Soon, though, the police discover a trail of desiccated corpses stretching across the city. The only thing that binds these victims (other than their cause of death) is their pastime pursuit: online chatting. One by one, they are being hunted by a techno-savvy demon. And when this monster has claimed his final victim, he will have completed a ritual that extends the arm of his evil far beyond the reaches of even the Internet…

Review:
Much like Ghoul Trouble, a Buffy the Vampire Slayer book by the same author, Avatar features a pretty lame plot brightened by some entertaining moments between the characters and a good feel for each character’s voice. It occurs early in season one, seemingly before episode eight, “I Will Remember You,” because Angel doesn’t seem to have seen Buffy since he left Sunnydale.

Frankly, the less said about the plot of Avatar the better. It makes sense, I suppose, but there’s nothing great about it. I did find one thing interesting, though. Often, media tie-in books are prohibited from having anything genuinely important happen to the characters. In Avatar, that still holds true but some events are inflated to seem like they are very important. For example, after Angel saves a bunch of teenagers being held prisoner by some sewer-dwelling demon bugs—slipping into vampface in the process—one of the teens says something like, “What are you?” Angel slinks away and the text reads, “Never before had his human face felt so much like a mask.” Really? A fleeting encounter with a teen in a sewer eclipses all of the other times Angel’s had angst about the duality of his existence?

The best part about Avatar is the depiction of the main characters, especially some nice conversations between Doyle and Cordelia and Angel’s observations about Doyle’s chances for a romantic relationship with her. Many fans agree that the worst episode of Angel‘s first season is “She,” featuring Bai Ling as a violet-eyed, leather-clad leader in a flimsy story meant to serve as a metaphor for female circumcision. Angel’s supposedly attracted to her, but no one can figure out why because she’s so boring. Avatar is certainly not as good as the best episodes of season one, but it is definitely better than “She.”

Except for the part where Angel dances. That part is awesome.

Crown of Love, Vol. 1

January 18, 2010 by MJ 13 Comments

Crown of Love, Vol. 1
By Yun Kouga
Published by Viz Media

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“I’d sell my soul to the devil … if it would make her notice me.”

Hisayoshi Tajima is an aloof high school student—a stereotypical “prince” type, fawned over and admired by all the girls in his class. Though none of his classmates has ever caught his interest, a chance encounter on the train throws him into sudden infatuation with a young female idol, Rima Fujio. Over the next month, his fixation with Rima becomes so strong that everything else (including schoolwork) begins to slip as he spends most of his time attending Rima’s video tapings and keeping up with news from her fan club. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Hisayoshi, he catches the eye of Rima’s former manager, Ikeshiba, who lures him into a career as an idol with the promise of getting him close to Rima.

Crown of Love is the retelling of an older series by mangaka Yun Kouga, originally serialized in 1988. That series was only two volumes long, with an ending described by the artist as “abrupt.” With that in mind, it’s not surprising that this volume offers an uneven mix of clunky exposition and insightful characterization.

The volume’s narration switches point-of-view constantly, revealing far too many of the characters’ inner thoughts, most of which could be more effectively implied through the story’s dialogue and art. The story’s chronology is all over the place too, jumping back and forth from Hisayoshi’s encounters with Rima, his disapproving father, and Ikeshiba, creating a great deal of confusion over what happens when.

All this aside, where Kouga succeeds, and stunningly so, is in her characterization. There are no shojo stereotypes here, despite appearances.

As he watches his desperate, submissive mother cowering under the rule of his controlling father, Hisayoshi is horrified to recognize himself in both of them. He is sickened by the intensity of feeling he has for Rima, a girl he barely knows, but can’t stop himself from prostrating himself before her, like his mother before her husband. Similarly, he recognizes his father’s stubborn arrogance in his own face and voice and hates himself for that. Hisayoshi is fully aware of what he means to Ikeshiba—fortune, notoriety, and possibly (though only lightly implied) sexual satisfaction—and though it angers him, he is willing to be led along in order to achieve his own goals. For all his righteous anger, he’s ready to play the game, too. “You’re so convenient, like a taxi,” he says to Ikeshiba after calling him in the middle of the night for a ride and a place to stay.

The idol, Rima, is in love with her married former manager (Ikeshiba) and resentful of Hisayoshi, whom she sees as a rival—more for Ikeshiba’s attention than the public’s, though she uses the latter as her rationale. She is insecure about her position in the business and endlessly embarrassed by her mother’s indiscretions. Rather than the typical bird in a gilded cage, she is portrayed as a scared young woman who gratefully accepted her career in order to escape her family and her own limitations. “Well, I can’t get a real job! There’s nothing else I’m good at!” she barks at Hisayoshi, angered by his nonchalance over his own career. More than anything, though, she wants to be taken care of by someone more capable than her mother.

Ikeshiba, however, is the series’ true piece of work. Manipulative and emotionally unavailable, he has few scruples about anything if it will get what he wants. When Rima’s attachment to him becomes too desperate to be convenient, he simply turns her over to another manager. Still, he’ll use that attachment to help reel in Hisayoshi without even a trace of guilt. His full interest in Hisayoshi is unclear, though he carelessly engages in a sort of artful flirting when Hisayoshi calls him for help. His full interest in anything is really anyone’s guess, though he goes about it all with a smile on his face. “I’d sell my soul to the devil … if it would make her notice me,” Hisayoshi muses early on. It seems somewhat possible that he has.

The fact that the characters seem to know just how screwed up they are is what rescues them from being too disturbing to bear, though even then it’s hard to read some of Hisayoshi’s internal monologue without feeling a bit of a chill. “I keep thinking of all these different things I want to do with you. Like this… and that…” he says to himself near the end of the book, dreaming of Rima. “But that’s okay, right? As long as I’m just thinking about it, it’s not wrong. I haven’t done anything yet.” It’s difficult at this point to tell just how seriously Kouga takes the broken universe she’s created in Crown of Love, something that will ultimately decide whether the series is deep and insightful or just plain creepy.

As always, Kouga’s art is a highlight of her work. There’s something essentially cheerful and straightforward about her layout and designs that gives a story like this an even darker tone than it might have with a more overtly sinister look. Also, though the story is far from light-hearted, there is a clarity to Kouga’s visual storytelling that keeps it from becoming mired in its own weight.

Though this series’ first volume has its share of stumbles, it is also genuinely intriguing, more than many shojo titles can claim this early on. Crown of Love is definitely worth a try.

Review copy provided by the publisher.