Bristling with a jazzy, frenetic energy and all around dope style, “Aloha, Hawaiian Dick” #1 returns in a burst of color to counter suburban boredom. Jake Wyatt (credited as Jacob Wyatt) joins B. Clay Moore’s hula noir series as people go missing, questions are raised, and intrigue abounds.
Written by B. Clay Moore
Illustrated by Jacob Wyatt & Jason ArmstrongThe critically-acclaimed tropical noir returns for a brand new series! While Byrd remains in 1954 Hawaii, we meet another Byrd back in the States, and his impending arrival on the scene is destined to change the landscape of HAWAIIAN DICK forever
To start, I’ll admit that I don’t have much familiarity with B. Clay Moore and Steven Griffin’s “Hawaiian Dick” series. The saga of the Byrd Brothers hadn’t entered my periphery until this newest miniseries was announced, and that was 100% because Moore tapped Jake Wyatt (“Necropolis”, “Ms. Marvel”) for the art. Turns out it was drawn five years ago, but unintentional delays kept it from coming out in time and separating it further from the other books in the series. Wyatt is less refined and confident than he is now, though his looser, more jittery style captures the aesthetic and atmosphere of the book perfectly. Add Moore’s casually cool way of revealing information and nice sense of dialogue, and we’re given both an engaging introduction and welcoming return.
The book doesn’t feel like we’ve been dropped into the middle of a story. It’s actually fairly welcoming to newer readers. Sure, the recap at the beginning helps, but the narrative plays out just as well if this is your first introduction to this world. Obviously these characters have history, have relationships with each other, but Moore balances enough information for those just joining in (like myself) with plenty of rewarding material for those who have been following along since the series started.
The issue focuses on Mike Byrd, your typical down-on-his-luck private dick. He’s spending a lot of time in Kansas City, gambling away every bit of money he manages to scramble together with odd jobs and loans. Moore infuses his script with a certain inevitability, a fateful quality, like the universe is going to great lengths to put Mike Byrd back in Hawaii with, presumably, his other brothers.
“Aloha, Hawaiian Dick” #1 has less an Ed Brubaker/Sean Phillips vibe to it and more of the ridiculous and wide cast of characters you’d see in Inherent Vice or any given Elmore Leonard novel. This is especially evident in the backup story (illustrated by Jason Armstrong) involving jazz musicians and drug dealing trumpet players, but everyone who appears has their own personalities and demeanors. They’re shady and probably a bunch of assholes, but they’re dressed in cool clothes and act kind of goofy, making it easy to get on board with them.
This chapter serves mainly to set the characters in their place and get them moving toward the main action. Moore has a plethora of conventions and detective standards to pull from, and he takes them and remixes them gleefully.
But Wyatt really makes this book sing. He uses thin, pencil lines and generally flat colors to render the story. It has a Saul Bass vibe to it; you can practically feel the saxophone theme song. His compositions and staging play cinematically and he utilizes some great beats of visual storytelling. A midway scene involves Mike Byrd trying to snap pictures of a client’s wife in a compromising position, only to of course be thwarted by her lover. Wyatt delivers a great image of this dude’s arms breaking through glass that leaves us as terrified and confused and beaten as Mike Byrd himself.
“Aloha, Hawaiian Dick” #1 is either a strong return or an intriguing introduction; it works either way. Moore obviously has a lot of fun in this world, with these characters, and with the situations they find themselves in. Though it’s earlier work from Jake Wyatt, it still hums with a fine energy and vibe. It’s an all-around cool little comic revving up to take off in a moment.
Final Verdict: 7.5 – So chill you don’t need the rocks.
