Jason Latour, Ivan Brandon, and Greg Hinkle introduce us to a refugee from a strange world trying to make ends meet in our own (Minor spoilers follow below.)
Written by Jason Latour and Ivan Brandon
Illustrated by Greg Hinkle
Zelda was born in a world of dreams, and hers burned bigger than anyone had ever seen. Now she’s on the run in our world, the dreams broken in her hands. But the pieces are for sale, the rich and the powerful are buying, and suddenly her world isn’t the only place Zelda’s running from. From the creators that brought you Spider-Gwen, SOUTHERN BASTARDS, and DRIFTER, and the incredible colorist of THE WICKED + THE DIVINE, comes a place where dreams come true–and today, they go to war.
You ever notice how most of Neil Gaiman’s stories are the same one? Like, beneath this hum drum world we all live in, you’ll never believe it, but underneath it is something magic. Something special. Replace “hum drum world” with “gods” or “awkward parties” and the pattern starts to congeal into something permanent.
Latour, Brandon, and Hinkle’s impressive “Black Cloud” has a similar sheen on the surface, but I can only start to describe what elevates it with adjectives like “American”. The comic focuses on a homeless woman named Zelda (which isn’t mentioned in the comic itself, but I did find it in the solicits so, figured I’d share) living in New York City and pulling low level scams to put food on the “table” (“Whatever that is,” to paraphrase my favorite 30 Rock joke). She lures rich ding dongs into pill parties that are actually opportunities to smuggle them back where she came from and pose it as that craziest drug trip they’ve ever taken.
Now, this “where she came from” is a little hard to pin down. It’s framed as a world built on the stories told by its inhabitants. The first time Zelda smuggles someone in, it’s a black and white noir wonderland with humans snooting it up among extra large animal bodyguards and criminals. Zelda is somehow in color in this world, and that distinction is connected to her powers there. This all makes much more sense on the page. “Black Cloud” is a comic that is telling a large chunk of its story in its visuals, and letting it hold on to many secrets of its own. Why is Zelda in color? Why does she look different? What are her powers? Why is she scared of raining? (She’s scared of raining.)
The issue itself offers little hints in any direction, nor does it necessarily raise the stakes very high. Zelda gets involved in a medium sized plot involving the mayor, but it’s not necessarily the kinds of stakes you may be used to in your typical fantasy comic book series, but I actually found it kind of refreshing. This story is focused on its main character, and the stakes are her own. The scenario she finds herself in is also, if you ask me, quite relevant. Zelda’s story is framed as that of a refugee, someone who has given up all the comforts of her home (and possible role as a deity?) only to sleep on benches in our world. I don’t know where things are headed, necessarily, but I suspect the reflections of our own current environment will only grow as the series goes on.
So there’s a lot going on and tantalizingly not going on, but I haven’t even gotten to the best part of the book: Greg Hinkle has drawn another comic for us to read. One can cite so many elements and familiarities in his extraordinary work. There’s the flair of Philip Bond, the gumminess of Jamie Hewlett, the knuckles of Jack Davis. But it all comes together in a look that couldn’t possibly belong to anyone else. As important as the cartooning and characters might be (and it is), Hinkle has to also sell the reality of our world and the irreality of Zelda’s. He does this impeccably. Today’s New York City is crowded and hecticly designed, while Zelda’s world looks like anything is possible, especially architecturally. Matt Wilson’s colors are an essential component here as well. Aside from creating a fantastic mood throughout, giving each sequence its own unique palette, Wilson also has to carry some important narrative beats through color alone. He tells these aspects very cleanly and in a way that’s easy to follow (even if we may not be sure what it means just yet).
Final Verdict: 8.9 – “Black Cloud” takes the long told story of fantasy worlds encroaching on our own and puts a very contemporary and American spin on the idea. It’s happy to slowplay its audience and when every moment is as compelling and well realized as the ones in this book, it’s hard to be disappointed.
