Author: Luke M.

Story by Eric Powell & Tracy Marsh
Art by Phil Hester

Giant monsters have emerged from slumber all across the globe, and threaten to destroy entire cities in their wake. As a new Battra larvae is led into Paris by a pair of psychic twins, Godzilla and Anguirus set themselves on a collision course toward Los Angeles. All the while, we’re told the story of Sergeant Steven Woods, a decorated war hero lost amidst the inane ramblings of a society that has lost sight of what’s truly important.

The entire first half of the book is spent listening to Woods preach about the destruction of values in consumerist America. Using a take off of Jersey Shore (called Jerseyfied, here) as the focal point for the ire of our disenfranchised soldier, the writers spend way too much time beating us about the head and shoulders with various political and moral agendas. In a book about Godzilla and subtitled Kingdom of Monsters, there is surprisingly little monster action.

Unfortunately, once we get to the purportedly epic battle between Godzilla and Anguirus, the artwork somehow fails to capture the sense of scale and awe necessary to depict the destruction of parts of Los Angeles. The fight ends up feeling rather puny, and would be upstaged by a classic guy-in-rubber-suit-stomps-scale-model montage.

The ending of this issue is uniquely disappointing, taking an already whiny character in Woods and stripping him of any redeeming qualities. In a scene that’s built to make us whoop and laugh like the idiots on Jerseyfied, Woods is drained of his humanity and patriotism all in one fell swoop. If Powell and Marsh were purposely attempting to portray a character who has completely missed the point, then they’ve succeeded.

And in both their political “message” and their depictions of monster mayhem, so have they.

Written by Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning
Art by Leandro Fernandez

After last months dialogue-heavy foray into detective work, New Mutants #27 returns to the root of all X-books: punching stuff. Having found a captive Nate Gray being used to help Sugar Man find a way back to his native Apocalypse timeline, Dani Moonstar and her crew must stop his operation and prevent him from escaping so he can answer for his crimes.

The issue begins with an odd page of exposition, a past debriefing where Cyclops is explaining Sugar Man’s powers and capabilities. The entire scene felt out of place, inserted as an afterthought to explain a tertiary villain to audiences who may not be familiar with the Age of Apocalypse storyline. Unfortunately this feeling carries over into much of the first half of the issue, especially in narrative sequences that only thinly disguised the authors attempting to explain the first two issues of the arc.

The battle rages on for most of the issue, winding down to an only mildly satisfactory conclusion that reeks of setup more than closure. After such a character-driven issue last month, #27 feels strangely vapid, virtually devoid of character advancement. There is little time spent for characters to discuss or reflect, and Dani is portrayed as the type of mindless, objective-driven leader we’ve seen in oh so many X-books before, interchangeable with countless X-leaders of the past. Perhaps that’s an intentional bit of advancement for Dani, but if so it feels forced and mildly out of character for her.

I’m somewhat disappointed with the conclusion to this mini-arc, with its static character depictions and hanging plot threads. I suppose, though, that a storyline which raises more questions than it answers was fittingly named “Unfinished Business”.

Story by Paul Jenkins
Art by Pascal Alixe

As the tribes of Pangaea converge to discuss their future, the Ether tribe re-emerges after centuries of silence, not to participate in diplomacy so much as to declare an edict of isolationism. Meanwhile, we’re given more insight into the forces behind the outlanders’ attempts to manipulate the Savage Land natives, and a young corporate cog presents a way to turn the Roxxon corporation’s game back onto itself.

The story focuses on the pressures that the native inhabitants of this prehistoric wilderness must endure from the outside world when their livelihood is compromised. Jenkins successfully depicts Ka-Zar as the man in the middle, simultaneously contending not only with his place as an outsider, but the increasing tension between the tribes and individuals he has sworn to protect, and the machinations of businesses looking to squeeze a profit from their suffering.

I’m impressed by the level of depth, but at times it felt a bit long-winded and I found my mind wandering. On one hand I’m enjoying the presentation of a Ka-Zar/Savage Land tale as a political thriller, but this entry is sadly lacking in the “thriller” half, spending much of the issue languishing in arguements between bickering tribesmen. The end of the book is where most of the story advancement takes place and, although interesting, it felt like it took too long to get there.

Alixe’s art is gorgeous, reminiscent of Cary Nord’s work on Conan, but is quite possibly ill suited for a book with so much loitering dialogue. Even if the writing were terrible (which it most certainly is not), I’d look forward to seeing more of Alixe’s work, and my hope is that the Jenkins ramps up the intrigue in future issues and gives him more to work with. For now, though, I remain cautiously optimistic.

Story by John Layman
Art by Alberto Ponticelli

Having stolen the Elias from Monster Island and made his way back to Tokyo, Detective Sato sets out on his plan to use them – and, by extension, Mothra – to destroy the Takahashi crime syndicate.

I’ll freely admit that I was skeptical about Godzilla: Gangsters & Goliaths, even when I heard it had a writer with a pedigree like John Layman. It was, after all, still a Godzilla book, which I haven’t had the best of luck with. Somehow, though, the creator of Chew (one of my favorite current books) has managed to infuse a sense of purpose into the classic Japanese monster world that is sorely lacking from some of the setting’s other books.

Layman has managed, so far, to weave the creatures of Monster Island into a classic revenge plotline in a way that makes their inclusion interesting, rather than simply attempting to tell a human story amongst carnage and destruction of monsters that barely take notice of humankind. Sato and the supporting cast aren’t spectacularly well-developed characters, but the plotline is fun to follow and the Elias will make for an interesting foil for Sato once his decisions come back to bite him in the ass (which they undoubtedly will).

My only minor complaint about the book has to do with Ponticelli’s renderings of characters. His landscapes are excellent, and his monsters (especially Mothra) carry all the weight and scale you would expect from these… well… goliaths. His people, however, sometimes feel a bit sloppy, and even though the book is set in Tokyo, not a single person in the book actually looks Japanese.

Aside from that one complaint, Gangsters & Goliaths is a fun read with an engaging take on the setting. Pick this one up, and avoid Kingdom of Monsters at all costs.

Story by Harold Sipe & Christopher Sebela
Art by Lee Leslie

After threatening to publicize a career-threatening monster-porn called Phantasmagorgya, a group of out-of-work movie monsters finds their almost-blackmailer, Invisible Izzy, stabbed to death and the movie stolen. Now, with every monster a suspect and the movie on the loose, it’s up to Carl “Wolfman” London and former Space Path engineer Travis Walters to find the killer and save what’s left of this motley group’s reputation.

Set in a world where monsters are real and make money off of their monstrosity (think Galaxy Quest meets Greg The Bunny), Screamland is intentionally referential of both monster movie and geek counter-culture. Now that the sheen of a new story has worn off, though, so has the appeal of its gimmick. The characterizations all seem to loiter at the bottom of an odd valley, never quite serious enough to be an intriguing take on the genre, and not quite over-the-top enough to be a comedic spoof.

While there are some genuinely funny moments (like a particular exchange in an elevator), there’s never enough laugh-out-loud jokes to carry the book into the next scene. On the other hand, so much time is spent on character origins and explanatory history that the murder-mystery plot is almost entirely obscured until the end of the book.

The art is fittingly cartoony, doing a fine job of deflecting some potentially adult subject matter into comedy. Like the writing, however, it’s just kind of there, never really finding a groove that sets it apart. If I were to flip through the book in a store, I’d likely just set it right back on the shelf.

Screamland is full of mildly entertaining ideas set in a mildly intriguing world with some mildly interesting characters. All that mild just lacks spice in the end, and mixes together into something ultimately bland.

Story by Kurtis Wiebe
Art by Riley Rossmo

Reading Green Wake has been a confusing journey for me. While the first issue was an interesting introduction to this surreal pseudo-afterlife of a town, the intervening issues grew steadily more vague, adding confusion to an already muddled murder-mystery by living in and dancing around increasingly obtuse metaphors.

While the same is somewhat true of issue #4, the explanations and revelations contained within do an admirable job of beginning to tie together the some of the niggling loose ends. We begin to understand some of the characters’ origins, and are given a deeper insight into the nature of Green Wake itself. Again, however, the story flutters in and out of the corporeal, making some of Morley’s revelatory conclusions seem to materialize from thin air.

While I do feel like issue #4 spends most of its time explaining the story to me, let me take a moment to give credit where credit is due: Unlike previous issues, nothing here feels random. The surprises in issue #4 are genuine – and genuinely planned – and for the first time in the series (unfortunately not until the fourth of five issues), I’m honestly intrigued to see how it ends.

I can’t help but wonder if Wiebe’s story is just poorly suited for monthly releases. Taken individually, each part is unduly confounding and lacks the necessary punch to remind you to buy the next issue each month. Taken as a whole, the story feels a little less pretentious and – depending on how Wiebe wraps everything up in issue 5 – potentially more cohesive.

I’m not yet sold that Green Wake is any sort of masterwork of surreal horror, but my befuddlement is starting to give way to curiosity, enough to now allow the conclusion to determine my opinion of the overall narrative.

Story by Mark Waid
Art by Peter Krause & Diego Barreto

For the last several months, Irredeemable has been mired in several plot threads that were opened with seemingly little thought toward their closure. While interesting at its start, the current storyline has diverged so far from what made the book interesting in the first place that it felt like Waid’s tale of Superman-gone-bad might be completely lost.

While issue 27 hints at something like closure, it does not do quite enough to assuage the feeling that Irredeemable is just…off. This issue feels even more haphazard than others recently as Tony nears the conclusion of his quest through the bowels of an intergalactic insane asylum. Characters introduced in previous issues are proven to have no purpose other than momentary plot devices, and the most recent introduction feels a bit too deus ex machina for my liking.

The entire purpose here feels forced, like Waid suddenly decided to give purpose to the book’s meandering. A few potentially major plot points are closed in very minor ways, yet new threads are opened with far-reaching implications. At some point along the way, Irredeemable lost its rudder, and this issue does nothing but change the book’s direction without committing to any particular destination. It lacks any sort of satisfying resolution, ending on another mildly interesting cliffhanger without really advancing any of the characters or storylines.

On the upside, I can dare to dream that the new direction laid out here is for the best, a first step toward bringing Irredeemable back around to the simple-yet-compelling storyline that made it a hit in the first place. That hope, however, will be tempered by yet another month of “wait and see”.

Story by Jim Zub
Art by Edwin Huang

Issue #8 joins our hapless heroes after they’ve been framed for the murder of the Chancellor and several other nobles by a group of fairies and their ginger-elf leader. Dumped into the street with no weapons and little information, Shorty and Baldy’s plan is simple: hide out until nightfall and find the town’s less reputable elements, then press them for information to clear their names, kicking some ass… I mean skulls… along the way.

Everything in this book is as guileless as you would expect: our heroes are simplistic, so their adventures are requisitely so. This lack of depth is balanced by legitimate (if sometimes black) comedy, evidenced by several interjecting scenes involving the retrieval of a golden flintlock. The brainless storyline is not unwelcome, though, and should be expected from a book named Skullkickers.

Edwin Huang’s artwork is suitably dynamic, seemingly built entirely to enhance comedy and action, which is exactly what a script like this needs. The aforementioned gun retrieval sequence is hilariously rendered, and Huang’s choice of framing adds an extra punch to just the right beats. Misty Coats’s colors are bright and vibrant, a good compliment to the book’s overall style.

Skullkickers is what it is: a rambling, anachronistic log of a (pretty decent) D&D adventure, replete with the kind of dialogue you’d expect from a group of cynical long-time gamers. It’s an entertaining ride devoid of emotion or drama – but sometimes that’s good enough.