Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Dark Horse

Bride of the Water God, Vols. 1-5

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boftwg1There are two things to know about Bride of the Water God before you begin reading: first, the artwork is stunningly beautiful, and second, the story takes frequent, confusing detours that are almost impossible to explain, given what we know about the characters. If you find yourself vacillating between “Oh, so pretty!” and “Sweet Jesus, that makes no sense!”, know that you’re not alone.

The story begins with a human sacrifice. In a rural village plagued by drought, town elders try to appease Habaek, the water god, with an offering of a “bride.” They place Soah, a stoic young beauty, in a leaky boat and set her adrift on a nearby lake. Instead of drowning, however, Soah washes ashore in the enchanted kingdom of Sugok, home of the water god. Habaek reveals himself to Soah not as the grotesque, man-eating creature she imagined he would be, but as a ten-year-old boy who presides over a lively court of deities. As she begins to explore Habaek’s sprawling palace, her initial relief turns to fear: Nakbin, Habaek’s previous wife, died under mysterious, possibly violent, circumstances that no one will discuss openly.

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Angel: Long Night’s Journey by Brett Matthews and Joss Whedon: C-

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From the back cover:
An enemy from Angel’s past has come to L.A., and enlisted three powerful supernatural creatures to break Angel’s spirit before killing him. In one catastrophic night, Angel has to figure out who’s after him, and then bring him down, in a climactic battle above the glittering Los Angeles skyline.

Review:
Wow, this is really lousy. It’s written at least partly by Joss, but it’s so lackluster that it’d pass for something written by Keith R. A. DeCandido.

The basic plot is thus: a boobalicious snake lady (Joss seems to like these, since one appears in the Buffy season 8 comics), a fiery stone guy, and a knight with a glowy sword all attack Angel and are eventually bested. A symbol on the knight’s chest (Joss seems to like this idea, too, since it also figures into the season 8 comics) clues him in to the fact that his foe is a Chinese vampire he once met.

Turns out the Chinese vamp is upset because he was supposed to be the champion vamp with a soul but instead Angel has that role. This plot is pretty irksome, because it all of a sudden introduces notions like that when Angel was cursed, he was just a test subject for the real deal, and that perhaps the soul he received isn’t even his. It’s annoying and vague and I’m happy all of these ideas were dropped along with Dark Horse’s publication of Angel comics after this miniseries.

The art is competent enough except that nobody looks like they should. I conducted a test by obscuring all but one panel, which featured Cordelia and Wesley, and asking my Whedon-loving coworker, “Who are these people?” She stared at it for a full minute and could not hazard a guess, even though she’d surmised the answer was probably Whedon-related. Cordelia comes off the worst, looking either trampy or middle-aged, and sometimes both at once. Still, it’s so nice to see her appear in a comic at all that I have revised the grade slightly upward from the D this dreck truly deserves.

Sinfest, Vol. 1

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The very first Sinfest strips tell you everything you need to know about Tatsuya Ishida’s cheeky yet surprisingly reverential comic. In them, we see a young man seated at a table across from the Devil, negotiating a contract that would enable him to enjoy — among other perks — a “supermodel sandwich” in exchange for his soul. The transaction isn’t taking place in an office or the gates of Hell, however, but, in a hat tip to Charles Schulz, at a jerry-rigged booth that’s a shoo-in for the one Lucy van Pelt used to dispense nickel-sized bits of wisdom to the Peanuts gang.

It’s this mixture of the fresh and the familiar that makes Sinfest such a treat to read. Though Ishida examines such ubiquitous comic strip subjects as the temperamental differences between cats and dogs, the eternal miscommunication between men and women, and the general absurdity of popular culture, Ishida puts a unique spin on the material. His Pooch and Percival cartoons provide an instructive example. Like many artists, Ishida portrays Percival as the smarter of the pair, a sly, cynical cat who tolerates the presence of his fellow pet Pooch, while Pooch is portrayed as an unabashed enthusiast who lives completely in the moment, frequently breaking into Snoopy-esque dance to express his joy. From time to time, however, Ishida neatly upends this relationship: in one strip, for example, Percival snidely denounces their master, telling Pooch, “They don’t care about you. They’re just lonely and they use you to fill their stupid void.” Without missing a beat, Pooch replies, “Well, that’s what I do with them.” This kind of carnivalesque reversal is key to Sinfest‘s success, challenging our preconceived notions of catness and dogness as well as our deeply ingrained belief that happiness, however desirable, is antithetical to introspection.

Some of Ishida’s bluntest, funniest strips take aim at popular culture, laying bare the subtexts that inform television, movies, and music. Ishida satirizes the diamond industry’s “Tell her you’d marry her all over again” ad, for example, with a neat, shot-by-shot reconstruction accompanied by a rude gloss on what’s really being sold: “This holiday season,” the narrator intones, “Give the gift that says, ‘Girl, I wanna do ya like it ain’t no thing!’ The gift that will make her fake it like she’s never faked it before!” The entertainment industry’s marginalization of women, blacks, and Asians also comes in for a blistering critique, with Ishida proposing television programs to address the “absence of ethnic/oppressed people in the new fall line-up” such as Geisha Warrior Hoochie, a story about the world’s deadliest masseuse;  Just Shank Me, a comedy documenting “the madcap hijinks of two pimps in a crackhouse”; and The Mex-Files, a Latino riff on Fox’s popular scare-fest. As his savage titles suggest, Ishida isn’t shy about pointing out the industry’s over-reliance on offensive stereotypes to pander to under-served demographics; if anything, these parodies ring with the same kind of uncomfortable truth as Dave Chappelle’s sharpest sketches.

As rude as Ishida can be, he also has a deep affection for the comic strip. He frequently pays homage to favorite cartoonists — albeit in ways that they might not embrace — by placing beloved characters in new and ridiculous contexts. Some of these send-ups are played strictly for laughs: the B.C. crew stoned out of their minds, Garfield on the cover of Pethouse magazine. Some are more pointed — It’s the Apocalypse, Charlies Brown! — gently poking creators for allowing their properties to be milked dry. (If you’ve ever seen You’re Not Elected, Charlie Brown, you’ll appreciate Ishida’s take on these C-list specials all the more.) All of these parodies are executed with painstaking care, as Ishida demonstrates an uncanny ability to mimic Scott Adams, Bill Waterson, Berke Breathed, Gary Larson, and, of course, Charles Schulz.

Given how raunchy and controversial Ishida can be, it’s no wonder that Sinfest began its life as a webcomic rather than a staple of the funny pages. Volume one of the Dark Horse edition collects the first 500+ installments of Sinfest, including twelve prototype strips that Ishida drew for The Daily Bruin (UCLA’s newspaper) in the early 1990s. Looking at these formative cartoons, we can see Ishida experimenting with voice and pushing the boundaries of good taste with crude jabs at campus feminism. These early strips have a more strident quality to them, as Ishida hadn’t yet mastered the difficult task of using boorish characters to critique sexism; instead, his characters just seem loud and not very funny. By the time the first Sinfest strips appeared in 2001, however, Ishida had gotten the hang of it, inviting us to recognize and laugh at his characters’ stupidity, rather than inviting us to laugh with them — and it’s this distinction that allows Ishida to be so in-your-face about issues that make all of us uncomfortable. Imagine Ricky Gervais or Dave Chappelle using comic strips as their preferred mode of expression, and you have a pretty good idea of what Tatsuya Ishida’s Sinfest is all about. Recommended.

Review copy provided by Dark Horse.

SINFEST, VOL. 1 • BY TATSUYA ISHIDA • DARK HORSE • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)  208 pp.

Sinfest, Vol. 1

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sinfest_coverThe very first Sinfest strips tell you everything you need to know about Tatsuya Ishida’s cheeky yet surprisingly reverential comic. In them, we see a young man seated at a table across from the Devil, negotiating a contract that would enable him to enjoy — among other perks — a “supermodel sandwich” in exchange for his soul. The transaction isn’t taking place in an office or the gates of Hell, however, but, in a hat tip to Charles Schulz, at a jerry-rigged booth that’s a shoo-in for the one Lucy van Pelt used to dispense nickel-sized bits of wisdom to the Peanuts gang.

It’s this mixture of the fresh and the familiar that makes Sinfest such a treat to read. Though Ishida examines such ubiquitous comic strip subjects as the temperamental differences between cats and dogs, the eternal miscommunication between men and women, and the general absurdity of popular culture, Ishida puts a unique spin on the material. His Pooch and Percival cartoons provide an instructive example. Like many artists, Ishida portrays Percival as the smarter of the pair, a sly, cynical cat who tolerates the presence of his fellow pet Pooch, while Pooch is portrayed as an unabashed enthusiast who lives completely in the moment, frequently breaking into Snoopy-esque dance to express his joy. From time to time, however, Ishida neatly upends this relationship: in one strip, for example, Percival snidely denounces their master, telling Pooch, “They don’t care about you. They’re just lonely and they use you to fill their stupid void.” Without missing a beat, Pooch replies, “Well, that’s what I do with them.” This kind of carnivalesque reversal is key to Sinfest‘s success, challenging our preconceived notions of catness and dogness as well as our deeply ingrained belief that happiness, however desirable, is antithetical to introspection.

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Serenity 2: Better Days by Whedon, Matthews, and Conrad: B

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serenity2From the back cover:
When the Serenity crew uncovers a heaping pile of cash—marking their first successful heist—they divulge their most outlandish fantasies, and look forward to a little R&R in a tropical paradise. Unfortunately for these space cowboys, someone is hot on their heels in search of a prize more precious than money.

Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, joins Brett Matthews and Will Conrad—the team that brought you the smash hit Serenity: Those Left Behind—with a new chapter in the lives of Malcolm Reynolds and his roving band of space brigands in Better Days.

Review:
While Serenity: Better Days is the second comic miniseries based on the TV show Firefly to be released, I am not sure whether its events take place chronologically after the end of the show or not. The one thing that would help establish its place in the timeline—Inara’s decision to depart the ship—is not mentioned at all, nor is any reference made to Shepherd Book’s wish to leave (first stated by him in Serenity: Those Left Behind). While the story works just fine without knowing when it happens, this still bugs me a little bit.

The plot of Better Days is extremely simple. For once, things go well and the crew of Serenity is suddenly rich. Several members share the way they plan to spend their money in scenes that nicely capture the warm, family-like times the crew occasionally shares. Meanwhile, the Alliance is looking for Mal (when are they not?), though this guy is special in that he’s one of Inara’s clients, and a builder whose drone Mal stole is out for revenge. I must admit that this peril did not interest me very much, though I’m used to looking past occasionally lame plots in Whedon shows in favor of character interaction. The best character goodness happens here between Inara and Mal, especially in their final scene together, though there’s also some nice continuity between Wash and Zoe as well as an intriguing tidbit regarding Inara and Simon.

Will Conrad is back as the artist for this miniseries, and seems to have a little better feel for the characters now. The likenesses are more consistent and Inara is vastly improved, finally meriting some impressively realistic close-ups of her own. Although a new cover was created for this trade paperback, the original covers of the three comic issues—forming a triptych that depicts the crew lounging atop sacks of money—are reproduced within.

I have now read all of the Firefly-inspired comics currently in existence and enjoyed them a good bit. Any time Dark Horse would like to make more, I’ll be happy to give them my money.

Serenity 1: Those Left Behind by Whedon, Matthews, and Conrad: B+

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serenity1From the back cover:
Here’s how it is—in a universe filled with hearts and minds as cold and dark as the reaches of space, one small Firefly-class starship named Serenity takes its ragtag crew of mercenaries, outlaws, and fugitives in search of a job, any job, that’ll earn them enough cash to afford that most elusive commodity—peace.

Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, unveils a previously unknown chapter in the lives of his favorite band of space brigands in this prequel to the Serenity feature film—the blockbuster follow-up to Whedon’s cult-hit TV show, Firefly.

Review:
Serenity: Those Left Behind takes place shortly after the final episode of Firefly, “Objects in Space.” Inara has not left yet; while the ship is en route to her destination, they’re taking jobs along the way and though Mal proclaims this is necessary it’s Wash, who’s well acquainted with doing stupid things (like working a dangerous job when he could make a cushy living) to remain near the woman he loves, who realizes that he’s just trying to keep her around a while longer.

After one such job, a bank heist, goes poorly, the crew is offered another job by Badger: to retrieve a stash of cash left at the scene of one of the bloodiest battles in the war. Meanwhile, Dobson (the federal agent who appeared in the first episode of the series) is teaming up with the hands-of-blue fellows to track them down. It’s unclear whether Badger is in on this or not, but it all boils down to an ambush in a field of spaceship debris, no payoff, and Dobson’s death. Too, in the final page, we seem to be witnessing the moment that the Operative (from the feature film) receives the assignment to bring in River. Another important thing that happens here is that Book decides he needs to leave the ship. He’s an active participant in helping the crew escape at one point and later hits Mal, something that the Captain is ready to forgive but which Book is not.

For the most part, Will Conrad’s art is decent. In some panels, the characters don’t look much like the actors who played them—Simon and Inara fare pretty poorly in this respect—but Conrad is an absolute ace at close-ups. There’ll be a page, for example, with a vaguely Kaylee-looking person in a few panels and then, once you zoom into her face, it’s “Oh, now she looks like Jewel Staite!” This happens with Mal a few times, too, and there are also a few outstanding close-ups of River. Different artists have also contributed some color portraits of members of the crew. Again, Simon and Inara get the short end of the stick—are their actors just too pretty to be drawn easily or well?—while Book (drawn by Tim Bradstreet), Jayne (Brian Hitch), and Wash (Sean Phillips) look fabulous! Honorable mention goes to Jo Chen’s Kaylee who, while she doesn’t really look like Jewel Staite, is positively adorable.

All in all, while this isn’t as good or as fulfilling as an episode of the show, it’s really great to see all of these characters again and fill in a little background for where we see them in the movie. Now on to the second comic miniseries, Better Days!

Short Takes: Haunted House, Mermaid Saga, and School Zone

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Boo! This week, I’m taking the highly imaginative step of writing about spooky manga. The twist? All three titles are penned by trailblazing female artists. First up is Mitsukazu Mihara’s Haunted House (Tokyopop), a comedy about a normal teen whose parents have clearly embraced Addams Family Values. Next on the agenda is Rumiko Takahashi’s Mermaid Saga (VIZ), an older series that mixes horror and folklore to good effect. (You can read the first chapter for free at the Shonen Sunday website.) And last but not least is Kanako Inuki’s School Zone (Dark Horse), a three-volume series about a school built atop a cemetery — always a bad idea, kids, even when the land is being offered at bargain-basement prices.

hauntedhouseHAUNTED HOUSE

BY MITSUKAZU MIHARA • TOKYOPOP • 192 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Remember that brief but excruciating period in your adolescence in which everything your parents said, did, or wore proved horribly embarrassing? Sabato Obiga, the hero of Haunted House, is living through that very stage. The crucial difference between his experience and yours, however, is that his family is genuinely odd: they look and act like something out of a Charles Addams cartoon, from their dramatic attire — Mom dresses like Morticia Addams, Dad like an undertaker — to their penchant for ghoulish pranks. Though Sabato desperately wants to date, his family members do their best to sabotage each new relationship by staging ridiculous scenes in front of his girlfriend du jour. In the first chapter, for example, Mom blithely picks up the family cat and announces that she’ll be “cooking something special on account of our guest,” while in a later chapter, his parents don hockey masks for a visit to the video store where he works. (Note to fellow animal saps: no cats were harmed in the making of this comic.)

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Manga Artifacts: Domu: A Child’s Dream

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Revisiting AKIRA prompted me to re-read Domu: A Child’s Dream, an earlier work that helped cement Katsuhiro Otomo’s reputation as the leading manga-ka of his generation. Though both series include elements of horror and science fiction, the two are utterly different in approach: AKIRA is sweeping, grand, and allegorical, whereas Domu is compact, a taut psychological thriller that unfolds in a mere 230 pages.

Domu begins like a police procedural: an older detective and his hot-headed young partner arrive at a Tokyo apartment complex to investigate a series of deaths. Though the victims’ histories suggest foul play rather than suicide, the detectives are baffled by the crime scenes: all of the victims have jumped off rooftops or slashed their own throats, with no evidence of anyone watching or aiding them. A few tantalizing clues lead investigators to “Old Cho,” a seemingly benign, senile resident who spends most of his time sitting on a bench and muttering. Inspectors Yamagawa and Tamura can’t connect Cho to the crimes, but Etsuko, a stolid little girl who has just moved into the complex, knows how Cho killed them: telekinesis and hypnotic suggestion.

What follows is an intensely creepy cat-and-mouse game between Etsuko and Cho. Though Cho is nominally an adult, his mind is terrifyingly child-like; he kills his neighbors for their “treasures”: a baseball cap with wings, a fake ruby ring, an umbrella, a stuffed toy. Cho initially regards Etsuko as an impediment to his fun, but when he discovers that Etsuko can also move objects with her mind, he begins testing her strength and sense of morality. Their battle begins in the narrow hallways and dim elevator shafts of Etsuko’s building, but quickly consumes the entire complex as Cho attempts to annihilate Etsuko.

domu_page

Though I found the artwork for AKIRA a bit dated, a relic of a particular moment in sci-fi history, Domu seemed less mired in the 1980s. The characters are refreshingly realistic in their appearance; Cho actually looks like an eighty-year-old man, with a stooped frame, a deeply-etched face, and liver-spotted hands, while Etsuko’s plump cheeks and slightly awkward proportions seem appropriate for an eight-year-old. Otomo lavishes similar attention on his bit players, too, giving each apartment dweller a distinctive look that speaks volumes about his economic status, age, and fear of being swept up in Yamagawa and Tamura’s murder investigation. Even the apartment complex functions as a kind of character, a sterile collection of high-rise buildings whose imposing exteriors give way to dark, dingy interiors and cramped apartments. As Otomo guides us through its labyrinthine hallways and stairwells, we feel a palpable sense of dread; the complex is filled with the kind of dead ends and blind spots that feature prominently in our worst nightmares.

Domu would be a solid, if not remarkable, thriller on the strength of its artwork alone, but Etsuko’s predicament gives the story an added jolt of energy and terror. She’s the strongest, most adult character in the story, the only one with a clear sense of what’s happening, and the only one powerful enough to stop Cho. Making her plight more compelling is the fact that Etsuko behaves like an eight-year-old who just happens to have a deadly gift, rather than a god-like creature who just happens to be eight years old; she’s small and vulnerable, eager for the comfort of her mother’s arms, but she’s also fiercely moral and incredibly brave in the face of nightmarish events, a child whose natural desire to set things right is cruelly tested by a childish adult.

N.B. Domu has been out of print for several years, though copies are relatively easy to find through eBay and Amazon’s extended seller network. Dark Horse released Domu in several formats, including three slim TPBs and an omnibus edition.

DOMU: A CHILD’S DREAM • BY KATSUHIRO OTOMO • DARK HORSE • NO RATING (RECOMMENDED FOR OLDER TEENS)

Domu: A Child’s Dream

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domu1Revisiting AKIRA prompted me to re-read Domu: A Child’s Dream, an earlier work that helped cement Katsuhiro Otomo’s reputation as the leading manga-ka of his generation. Though both series include elements of horror and science fiction, the two are utterly different in approach: AKIRA is sweeping, grand, and allegorical, whereas Domu is compact, a taut psychological thriller that unfolds in a mere 230 pages.

Domu begins like a police procedural: an older detective and his hot-headed young partner arrive at a Tokyo apartment complex to investigate a series of deaths. Though the victims’ histories suggest foul play rather than suicide, the detectives are baffled by the crime scenes: all of the victims have jumped off rooftops or slashed their own throats, with no evidence of anyone watching or aiding them. A few tantalizing clues lead investigators to “Old Cho,” a seemingly benign, senile resident who spends most of his time sitting on a bench and muttering. Inspectors Yamagawa and Tamura can’t connect Cho to the crimes, but Etsuko, a stolid little girl who has just moved into the complex, knows how Cho killed them: telekinesis and hypnotic suggestion.

What follows is an intensely creepy cat-and-mouse game between Etsuko and Cho. Though Cho is nominally an adult, his mind is terrifyingly child-like; he kills his neighbors for their “treasures”: a baseball cap with wings, a fake ruby ring, an umbrella, a stuffed toy. Cho initially regards Etsuko as an impediment to his fun, but when he discovers that Etsuko can also move objects with her mind, he begins testing her strength and sense of morality. Their battle begins in the narrow hallways and dim elevator shafts of Etsuko’s building, but quickly consumes the entire complex as Cho attempts to annihilate Etsuko.

domu_page

Though I found the artwork for AKIRA a bit dated, a relic of a particular moment in sci-fi history, Domu seemed less mired in the 1980s. The characters are refreshingly realistic in their appearance; Cho actually looks like an eighty-year-old man, with a stooped frame, a deeply-etched face, and liver-spotted hands, while Etsuko’s plump cheeks and slightly awkward proportions seem appropriate for an eight-year-old. Otomo lavishes similar attention on his bit players, too, giving each apartment dweller a distinctive look that speaks volumes about his economic status, age, and fear of being swept up in Yamagawa and Tamura’s murder investigation. Even the apartment complex functions as a kind of character, a sterile collection of high-rise buildings whose imposing exteriors give way to dark, dingy interiors and cramped apartments. As Otomo guides us through its labyrinthine hallways and stairwells, we feel a palpable sense of dread; the complex is filled with the kind of dead ends and blind spots that feature prominently in our worst nightmares.

Domu would be a solid, if not remarkable, thriller on the strength of its artwork alone, but Etsuko’s predicament gives the story an added jolt of energy and terror. She’s the strongest, most adult character in the story, the only one with a clear sense of what’s happening, and the only one powerful enough to stop Cho. Making her plight more compelling is the fact that Etsuko behaves like an eight-year-old who just happens to have a deadly gift, rather than a god-like creature who just happens to be eight years old; she’s small and vulnerable, eager for the comfort of her mother’s arms, but she’s also fiercely moral and incredibly brave in the face of nightmarish events, a child whose natural desire to set things right is cruelly tested by a childish adult.

N.B. Domu has been out of print for several years, though copies are relatively easy to find through eBay and Amazon’s extended seller network. Dark Horse released Domu in several formats, including three slim TPBs and an omnibus edition.

DOMU: A CHILD’S DREAM • BY KATSUHIRO OTOMO • DARK HORSE • NO RATING (RECOMMENDED FOR OLDER TEENS)

Short Takes: The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service and Oishinbo A la Carte: Japanese Cuisine

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This week’s Short Takes examines two manga aimed at adult audiences. (Notice I didn’t say “adult manga,” which is a different kettle of fish altogether, and not the sort of thing I typically review. Just sayin’.) The first is The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service (Dark Horse), a macabre series about a five oddballs who work with the recently departed; the second is Oishinbo a la Carte: Japanese Cuisine (Viz), a mouth-watering look at Japanese cuisine, from sushi and sake to ramen.

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Blood+ Adagio, Vol. 1

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Forget what you know about the Russian Revolution. The real cause of the Romanov’s demise wasn’t growing unrest among the proletariat, or the high cost of World War I, or the famines of 1906 and 1911, but something far more sinister: vampires. At least, that’s the central thesis of Blood+ Adagio, a prequel to the popular anime/manga series about an immortal, vampire-slaying schoolgirl and her handsome, enigmatic handler. The first volume of Adagio transplants Saya and Hagi from the steamy jungles of present-day Okinawa and Vietnam — where they’ve battled US military forces and the myserious Cinq Flèches Group — to the chilly halls of Nicholas II’s Winter Palace in St. Petersburg — where they discover a nest of Chiropterans as well as a host of schemers, sycophants, and crazy folk in the tsar’s orbit.

Russophiles will balk at the liberties that artist/author Kumiko Suekane has taken with historical fact, such as transforming Rasputin from a bearded monstrosity into a clean-shaven hottie and introducing Sergei Shupukin, a fictional general who supposedly rose from peasant stock to become Nicholas II’s most trusted military advisor. As preposterous as some of these decisions may seem, however, they work surprisingly well, creating a delirious atmosphere that captures the Romanov’s desperate, semi-debauched state in 1916. One could almost — almost — believe that vampires prowled the halls of the Winter Palace under Rasputin’s protection.

What doesn’t work so well is the actual story. Few characters receive a proper introduction; we’re simply thrown into the action and left to our own devices to decide which ones are central to the drama and which ones are peripheral, a process unnecessarily complicated by some unfunny comic business in the opening pages. More frustrating is how poorly the historical elements are incorporated into the storyline, as two rooted-in-fact subplots — the tsarevich’s hemophilia and Rasputin’s cult following — receive only cursory treatment, never rising beyond the level of period window dressing.

Frustrating as the story may be, Kumiko Suekane’s artwork is clean and stylish, capturing the opulence of the Romanov lifestyle through elaborate costumes, hairstyles, and personal affects. Her character designs closely resemble Chizu Hashii’s originals, though they’re a little softer and more sensuous than the angular figures from the Blood+ anime — a good thing, in my opinion, as the characters’ faces are less mask-like and more expressive. Suekane stages the fight scenes competently, if not imaginatively, relying heavily on speedlines and close-ups of contorted faces to convey the intensity of the violence, sometimes obscuring where, exactly, her characters are standing in relation to one another.

Readers unfamiliar with the Blood+ series may find Adagio a confusing place to begin their journey, as the author presumes her audience is well-versed in the characters’ elaborate histories. Long-time fans, however, will find this an entertaining, if unevenly executed, story that should satisfy their urge to see Saya and Hagi’s slow-simmering romance continued.

BLOOD+ ADAGIO, VOL. 1 • STORY AND ART BY KUMIKO SUEKANE • DARK HORSE • 200 pp. • RATING: TEEN

Blood+ Adagio, Vol. 1

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adagio1Forget what you know about the Russian Revolution. The real cause of the Romanov’s demise wasn’t growing unrest among the proletariat, the intelligentsia, or the military; nor the high cost of World War I; nor the famines of 1906 and 1911, but something far more sinister: vampires. At least, that’s the central thesis of Blood+ Adagio, a prequel to the popular anime/manga series about an immortal, vampire-slaying schoolgirl and her handsome, enigmatic handler. The first volume of Adagio transplants Saya and Hagi from the steamy jungles of present-day Okinawa and Vietnam — where they’ve battled US military forces and the myserious Cinq Flèches Group — to the chilly halls of Nicholas II’s Winter Palace in St. Petersburg — where they discover a nest of Chiropterans (a.k.a vampires who are more beast than bishie) as well as a host of schemers, sycophants, and crazy folk in the tsar’s orbit. Let the slayage begin!

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Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight 3 by Drew Goddard: C

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From the back cover:
A team of Japanese vampires who can transform into wolves, panthers, and fog attack the Slayer compound in the highlands of Scotland, stealing Buffy’s mystical scythe—the weapon that transformed thousands of young women into Slayers. Unable to fight these mysterious new foes, Buffy sends Xander to see his old friend—the only vampire known to possess these incredible powers—Dracula.

Review:
I really disliked the “Wolves at the Gate” arc when it was coming out, but it works a little better when read all in one sitting, and with the stand-alone issue “A Beautiful Sunset” as an introduction. “A Beautiful Sunset” itself is quite good. In it, Buffy warns Satsu about the dangers of being in love with her, and has an encounter with the Big Bad, Twilight. I love that Twilight asks Buffy whether all of these additional Slayers have actually helped her in any way, and she can offer no response.

“Wolves at the Gate” spans issues twelve to fifteen, and it’s here where things start to get kind of annoying. How so? I’ll bust out the bullet points. Warning: full of spoilers.

* The Buffy/Satsu publicity buzz. Even though Joss insists that Buffy’s hook-up with a fellow Slayer was not a publicity stunt, you could’ve fooled me. There were reports of comic shops being told to stock up in advance on this one because it would be popular, and all kinds of interviews and stuff being given. I also don’t like that we never see how the two of them got to that point. Without that, I just can’t buy Buffy being attracted to a girl.

* Dracula. I am so tired of Season Eight bringing back random characters from the show. Please focus on the core group! Oh, and he supposedly lost his powers to this bunch of Japanese vampires by gambling.

* Andrew’s lecture on Dracula, during the course of which he says that Xander and Dracula have been letter-writing pals and that, after Anya died, Xander went to live with Dracula for a while. Um, what the hell?! This is stupid and retconny and entirely only there so that “Antique,” a short story Goddard contributed to the non-canon graphic novel Tales of the Vampires and which features Buffy coming to Dracula’s castle to retrieve Xander after this period of cohabitation, can become canon. I cry foul. (Note: Not that Andrew is at all a reliable source, but his comments are not contradicted.)

* Renee’s fate. Okay, yes, I never see these things coming, but jeez. Enough is enough. A happy ending for a couple would be more surprising these days.

* Mecha Dawn. Quite possibly the dumbest thing in this series yet. Why on earth would the Japanese vampires take the time to construct a Dawn mecha? What’s more, they have programmed it to say things like, “I cry a lot.” So they’ve, like, also taken the time to try to learn things about Dawn and her life? Probably this is supposed to be funny, but I think it’s incredibly stupid.

On the plus side, there is some good dialogue. When I first read these issues, I was peeved that Willow wasn’t mad at Buffy for taking advantage of Satsu’s feelings, but now their conversation on the subject works a bit better for me. There’s also lots of good Xander dialogue plus liberal use of the hand gestures Nicholas Brendon always employed. Too, I love Buffy’s reaction at the end of the fight upon hearing that the vampires are fleeing: “So chase them. No prisoners. Seal off the streets. Cut them down as they flee. Kill every single one of them.” Now that’s good continuity with Season Seven Buffy.

So, no, Wolves at the Gate is not a good arc. It has some good moments, but far too much of it is irksome. On its own, it earns a C-; the score for the volume is a bit higher because of “A Beautiful Sunset.”

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight 2 by Brian K. Vaughan: A

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From the back cover:
While Buffy is busy trying to uncover the mysterious new Big Bad known only as “Twilight,” Giles takes on a mission of his own that will require a Slayer who can handle a little dirty work. He recruits the notoriously rebellious Faith for an undercover job that demands her well-known penchant for violence. She must infiltrate the estate of a rogue Slayer and put a stop to this girl’s evil deeds no matter the cost.

Review:
This collection includes issues 6-10 of the series. The first four comprise Vaughan’s Faith arc that lends its name to this volume as subtitle—”No Future For You.” The last issue is a stand-alone written by Joss himself.

I’m current with the monthly issues of this series (up to 14 now), and I have to say that “No Future For You” is definitely my favorite arc thus far, which is a little weird since Vaughan was never a writer for the show. He really nails Faith, though, and all of her dialogue and inner thoughts ring true. I especially like her perspective on the conflicts she’s had with Buffy and her relationship with Mayor Wilkins. Here’s an excerpt:

Evil scumbag. That’s what most people think of the last guy who put me in a dress. But I don’t know. Dude may have been a bit of a snake… but he wasn’t a dog. Everybody thinks he was, like, exploiting me or whatever, but that’s not how it felt. So I totally get how chicks can get mixed up in the wrong crap. Even today, it’s still hard to look back at my time with that guy…and feel anything but loved.

Pretty awesome stuff. Vaughan also does well with the other characters, who both speak and act perfectly in character. I’m fascinated by the dynamic between Faith and Giles, especially in the scene where he mentions his own youthful rebellion and how they’re not so unalike, but the best is probably Buffy jumping to the absolute worst conclusion about Faith’s involvement with the rogue Slayer. It’s not only a very Buffy thing to do, but it also cuts Faith deeply to see that she will probably never really be trusted by Buffy, despite her various attempts at redemption.

Not so awesome, alas, is Georges Jeanty’s art. I’m not so miffed about it as this guy, but Faith really does look pretty awful in some panels. I realize that spot-on likenesses are not necessarily the artist’s goal, but she often looks like several different people per page, and each only marginally reminiscent of Eliza Dushku. I will, however, say that in more recent issues, Jeanty has drawn some truly exceptional panels of Willow.

Issue 10, “Anywhere But Here,” is important in its own right, featuring Buffy and Willow on a mission together and providing many answers, including where the funding for the Slayers came from and the current state of Willow’s relationship with Kennedy. Back at home, Dawn also finally discloses (to Xander) how she ended up gigantified. This is the kind of significant personal interaction I was missing in the first Buffy-centric arc, so I’m very pleased to get such a nice chunk of it here.

I really hope Vaughan writes an arc again soon or, even better, starts up a spin-off starring Faith and Giles. Sad to say, I would actually prefer that to the current arc that’s underway at present.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight 1 by Joss Whedon: B

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From the back cover:
Worldwide cult phenomenon Buffy the Vampire Slayer returns with Season Eight—only in comics! Series creator Joss Whedon once again takes up writing duties for this official sequel to the show, running the comics as he ran seven seasons of Buffy on TV. This opening story introduces a mysterious threat known as “Twilight” and plunges Buffy and the gang into their biggest adventure—without the limitations of a small-screen budget.

Review:
I’ve been reading these as they’ve been released each month, but enjoyed them more on this reread. Not only did the arc (entitled “The Long Way Home”) benefit from being read in one sitting, but I also found it easier to hear the dialogue in the actors’ voices this time, making it easier to feel that this really is happening to the characters, despite them being all two-dimensional and stuff.

The dialogue is pretty great, and the few scenes where the Scooby Gang is together (sans Giles) are my favorites of the arc—I just wish there were more of them. For a season opener, this is a lot of action and random familiar faces from the past (one of whom is a retcon so objectionable that I’m just going to pretend it didn’t happen), and small doses of character interaction. Hopefully that will shift in time. Right now, the series has moved onto a Faith arc and there’s been no real follow-up to these events yet.

The last chapter is a stand-alone story called “The Chain,” and tells the story of a girl tapped to be a decoy Buffy. It’s sad and probably the best single issue of the bunch collected here.

I find myself frequently annoyed by the inconsistency of the art in American comics and sadly, this series is no exception. While Xander and Willow look alright most of the time, Buffy either looks weird or, if she looks like herself at all, too young. In the original issues, Willow’s eyes were blue, but they’ve been corrected for this collection. The covers by Jo Chen are absolutely gorgeous, though.

Digesting the continuing adventures of Buffy in this format takes some getting used to. It definitely seemed more real to me on this reread than it did initially, so I’d advise anyone taking the plunge to give themselves a little time to adjust; it’ll grow on you.