Welcome, Earthlets, to Multiver-City One, our “2000 AD” weekly review column! Every Wednesday we examine the latest offerings from Tharg and the droids over at Rebellion/2000 AD, the galaxy’s leading producers of Thrill-Power entertainment. Let’s get right to it!
THIS WEEK IN 2000AD
Judge Dredd: Lord of the Fyreflies
Credits: Rory McConville (script), Mick McMahon (art), Chris Blythe (colors), Annie Parkhouse (letters)
Alice W. Castle: Hey, remember the Fyre Festival? That weekend where a bunch of millennials with either too much money or too much sway over their parents credit cards jetted off the the Bahamas for an incredibly Instagram-worthy music festival on a paradise island that ended up being like a scene out of Lord Of The Flies? Yeah, it happened like 100 years ago in May of this year and, weirdly enough, this story in October’s “2000AD” is all about it. You know, that timely satire you expect from Judge Dredd.
What’s weird about ‘Lord Of The Fyreflies” is about how little it has to say about what actually happened at the Fyre Festival or the economic realities that caused it. Instead, it feels McConville and McMahon saw on the news that a bunch of kids had been stranded on an island at a music festival gone awry and decided to throw in some Mad Max-style raving bands of mutants and a “I guess life just Sucks™” ending with little in the way of actual commentary.
It’s a shame because the past two Dredd stories I’ve covered here have done a great job of using the events of 2017 to create timely and cutting commentary on the brutality of the government and the way media is manipulating people to create divides that distract us from how we’re being manipulated. ‘Lord Of The Fyreflies,’ on the other hand, feels not only dated, but like a toothless reskin of the actual events that aren’t even ludicrous even to feel like a parody.
You know what they say: when we live in a world where our daily lives are an emotional fabrication fed to us by our datascreens to distract us from the horrors befallen on our fellow humans by the tyrannical system designed to farm us for wealth, dystopic satire is dead.
Indigo Prime: A Dying Art, Part 5
Credits: Kek-W (script), Lee Carter (art), Simon Bowland (letters)
Kent Falkenberg: “Down into the sleep dirt and the night soil. The realm of parasomonia and dirty thoughts. Down where the bedbugs bite.” Kek-W has a certain flair for capturing the essence of where exactly this story is taking place. I know show, don’t tell is something of a golden rule, and Lee Carter is doing a fantastic job to differentiate the Pyschosphere from the Haunted House of Heads from whatever crimson Hell it is we’ve landed in now. But as “Indigo Prime” descends from one metaphysical dreamscape to another to another, it’s nice to see Kek-W provide some reference points. Even if those descriptions are every bit as esoteric as the visuals.
‘A Dying Art, Part 5’ shows the first hints of a convergence between Burroughs and the field agents’ narrative and the corporate espionage one roiling under the surface back at home office. Down in the Under-Id, Burroughs has found a possessed Indigo Prime agent, who may have some answers regarding nefarious dealings undertaken by the agency’s management. Throughout this strip, there’s been subtle juxtaposition between the heady metaphysics of the pseudo-science at play and the corporate bureaucracy of the organization itself. It’s been a wonderful balance between the sublime and mundane. And it shows up again clearly in Lee Carter’s design of the possessed Danny Redman. He’s shown unconscious and handled almost like a life-sized puppet by a wraith-like figure. But Danny’s eyes and mouth are pasted over by two giant black strips with the word REDACTED
This might be the most straight-forward strip so far in “A Dying Art,’ certain theatrics aside. Burroughs and the team have seemingly found the root cause of what’s incapacitated all the other Imagineers. The wraith attacks. Backup is called in. The pacing feels more overtly action-oriented as opposed to the more psychedelic/atmospheric preceding installments.
Continued below“A Dying Art, Part 5” ramps up the tension, while shading in a bit more exposition. Kek-W’s script reads smoothly and there feels like a bit more motion in Lee Carter’s art. We still might not have all the answers, but there seem to be enough now to carry us through to the end.
Slaine – The Brutania Chronicles: Archon, Part 5
Credits: Pat Mills (script), Simon Davis (art), Ellie de Ville (letters)
Rowan Grover: “Slaine” moves forward with it’s wild conflicts in Part Five. Our titular protagonist and his companion Sinead travel with a Yak bearing a golden helmet – already, this comic is ticking boxes for me. But then Mills knocks the dial to full blast by throwing in these grotesque harpy/hydra-like creatures to attack and over-encumber our heroes. I was a little disoriented by these creatures existing without a name or origin, but it went with the heady pacing of the book. Mills deepens his narrative by having these creatures come from Gododin, opening up the case of the rivalry between him and Slaine once again. It gives a satisfying interconnected feel to the story, something that Mills excels at in his works.
I find it amazing how Davis has such a distinctive style to his art, yet can deliver unique and original settings for chapter to chapter. As soon as the chapter opens, Davis hits us with just enough to place us, but enough to keep it atmospheric – there’s a seagull, there’s a wharf, and a body of water. Need I say more? And don’t get me wrong, this chapter doesn’t slack on the action. When the harpy/hydra creatures attack, it’s in a swarm of limbs and body mass that is equally gross yet somehow beautiful. What was really abhorrent (in the best possible way) though, was the harpy’s faces. They have an almost cardboard-cut-out nature to their mouths, and it’s unnerving that you actively root for Slaine to kill them and burn them with fire, and I feel like that’s a huge credit to Davis’ work.
Slaine continues to be the celtic barbarian adventure book that I always wanted. There’s some need for specificity that would help with worldbuilding in some parts, but Mills certainly knows how to build a rollicking, visceral narrative.
Sinister Dexter: Aztek Camaraderie: 1
Credits: Dan Abnett (script), Steve Yeowell (art), John Charles (color), Annie Parkhouse (letters)
Greg Lincoln: The punningly titled ‘Aztec Cameraderie’ reaches back to the sad discovery Finnigan Sinister and Ramone Dexter made in issue 2050’s story, the loss of the Instant Korma Indian food chain. The apparent loss of the family owned fast food chain turns out to be premature as this week they stumble across the last remaining shop in the Downlode while hunting down a place for dinner. Dan Abnett does what British writes do best as he brings the food related puns and jokes a plenty to this story. He also delivers some real punching up satires as well after a confusing and awkward welcome to the Instant Korma establishment. A menu number filled meal later Abnett reveals the reason for the lack of Instant Korma shops. In addition to mass gentrification the Downlode has gone through the city sprawl is seeing a fast food invasion by the Tec-Mex Chicken Itza chain through strongarm intimidation and violence. Our gun-shark heroes are having none of that against their favorite eatery as they decide do some pro-bono strong-arming, ahem I mean heroing of their own right back.
Steve Yeowell and John Charles use their limited space well to hook us to this fast moving satire. Their panels look a little deceptively simple but actually deliver a lot of character and atmosphere with their economy of line and color choices. They have no space to waste and show us just enough to tell the tale and make an impact. Finnigan and Ramone obviously delivered some kind of beat down when they visited the Chicken Itza shop and Yeowell told that tale simply with the aftermath panel where the gun-sharks delivered some pointed instructions. The clothing and costumes they inflicted on the fast food workers though preposterous are not far off base from the ones inflicted on the same in reality. Yeowell, Charles and Parkhouse are really not afraid to make this comic look like a comic right down to the bright “bang, bang, bang” should effects for guns and the dramatic pushed perspective. Sure I can read in the message about the little guy fighting against the big corporation and punching up but it’s a comic that not afraid to be a comic and a funny one at that if you like some well delivered puns.
Continued below
Absalom: Terminal Diagnosis – Book One Part Two
Credits: Gordon Rennie (script) Tiernen Trevallion (art) Ellie De Ville (letters)
Michael Mazzacane: It’s interesting to note how details are used in this strip. These specifics don’t come together to make a “realistic” text, but they do come together to quickly show specific genre traits and more importantly, obfuscate a cartooned sensibility. For all the little details in Tiernen Trevallion’s art or Gordon Rennie’s dialog, that turn of a page as a massive police van (or hummer?) comes barreling through still hits comedy pay dirt.
Writer Gordon Rennie spends all of two panels and five word balloons establishing Harry Absalom as the right kind of crooked with a heart of gold copper. The kind you make shows out of (and wrongly idealize), he’s taking a new protégé under his wing and trying to introduce him to some of the more useful ghouls and ghosts, in the lead up to a drug deal. Except some of the not so useful ghouls and ghosts want Harry for themselves. As they talk it out over wither the Accords have jurisdiction or not, Harry rummages around looking for something useful. What he finds is mildly humorous but serves as setup for a bigger punchline on the next page.
Trevallion crowds the page and panels with tick tock men bodies, of all sorts. You’ve got some zombie Roman types, dog men, demon men, the kind of evil stuff you’d expect working for Hell. In packing it all together he raises the tension on the page mightily. The varied body types and multiple points of view from the panels, give the page an anxious quality.
And then, on a page turn, there’s suddenly a police van plowing through these ne’er-do-wells. Those Roman zombies? Their faces begin a meeting with a sledge hammer. It isn’t that Trevallion’s art style is more or less detailed in this page compared to others (he gets a lot of texture out of the riot armor), it’s the proportions and view that change. Bodies fly through the air with a static quality. There isn’t even a background, as Harry’s new charge pushes the old man out of the way – and paying off another setup joke. It’s the opposite of the previous page, wide open for you to see the absurdity of it all.
All of this comedy, you can’t help but chuckle at the gore and sudden nature of it all, only really works because of those details in the preceding pages. The art and dialog point the reader in one direction only to sucker them with another. This isn’t pointless, random, comedy it’s all setup by those details.
