Most reviews of “Dial Hero” #1 made it out to be reminiscent of the Vertigo comics of the late 80’s and early 90’s. In fact, that is why I, as a reader rather than a critic, picked it up in the first place — that era is, as the kids say, “my jam.” After reading both that issue and the latest one, I, too, have some words to share regarding the most unique of the DC Second Wave.
Written by China Miéville
Illustrated by Mateus Santoluoco– Part two of the five-part opening story!
– As our hero learns to use the H DIAL, he begins to suspect there is something sinister at work.
China Miéville seems to be making the same mistake that many writers, whether they write comics, novels, or films, make: it is clear that he is trying to have his story come off as “mysterious,” but instead it seems more like Miéville is being either vague or unstructured. Without a doubt, things are happening in this comic. This is not one of the many comics on the shelves these days that are so decompressed it seems like nothing happens between pages one and twenty. Nor is this a comic that falls into standard cliches – in fact, it truly is one of the more unique books on the market, despite technically being yet another superhero title.
None of this matters, though, if the comic is such a chore to read. After having some time away from “Dial H,” the reader might be able to piece it back together in his or her mind, but that does not redeem the comic in the slightest; in fact, that makes it even worse. That Miéville was able to make such a simple, logical progression of time, cause, and effect seem so impenetrable, so bewildering, just makes it more and more apparent that he is trying too hard. The premise is interesting enough, but not enough to withstand this kind of treatment. And, even then, the premise is only interesting because of the merits of the “Dial H for Hero” concept itself; the only thing new and reminiscent of the late 80’s Vertigo, as other critics claim, that Miéville actually brings to the table is a darker ambiance and more confused storytelling.
Even all of this would be at least somewhat forgivable if we had a character we could root for or, at the very least, feel bad for. Miéville is obviously going for the latter; two issues in, and already Nelson seems to have more problems than Matt Murdock has had in the span of a few decades. It is hard to sympathize with Nelson, though. Sure, he truly is a sad man who is about as low as one can get, but it is almost to a Debbie Downer extent. Nothing about Miéville’s dialogue really makes Nelson out to be more than a fictional construct, and so his problems – as macabre as this may seem – are more humorous than appalling. Nelson hardly seems real, and so we cannot sympathize, and, unable to sympathize, laugh. Why shouldn’t we? He’s overweight, smokes far too much, can hardly run, and has an ex-girlfriend who won’t talk to him. If Miéville cannot make us feel bad for this poor man, we cannot help but feel the opposite.
Artist Mateus Santoluoco, like Miéville, falls into a common trap for those in his profession. During the more exciting moments of the comic, Santoluoco is on. Truly, there are more than a few panels in this comic that are incredibly impressive, full of both energy and a sense of foreboding that grate on the reader in opposite directions. When, for example, Nelson is talking on the phone, though, Santoluoco seems to get bored. These supposedly mundane panels need a great artist to bring them a life and vibrancy that even the most carefully constructed script cannot bring, and Santoluoco lets all of them fall flat. In fact, the more ordinary panels are the ones that put the final nail in the coffin for Nelson – not only does Miéville’s script not give him much life, but Santoluoco’s illustrations leave him appearing to be a facade, a cartoon. Santoluoco could very well be one of the great new names in the industry, but in order to earn this title, he needs to think less about the pages that speak for themselves, and more about those that need an artist’s helping hand.
For some people, the claim “it wasn’t anything remarkable” is a neutral comment – true, there may be nothing good to say about the comic, but if a comment like that is all that can be said, then there probably was not anything bad to say about the comic, either. And that is a fair reading; nine times out of ten, when a reviewer says “the comic is not particularly noteworthy” or anything along those lines, then the comic will most likely receive a grade that is somewhere between a 5.0 or a 6.0, according to the reviewer’s grading conventions, and skewed according to their bias toward the particular genre. When you are talking about a comic like “Dial H,” though, the criticism is not as mild. This is a comic that, even more than your average work of fiction, is made to be noteworthy. A Vertigo-esque take on a Silver Age comic, even if not very good, should at least leave the reader thinking “Well, that was… different.” “Dial H” does not even do that; it is a dull, confusing read that is noticeably average – which, of course, means it is not average at all.
Final Verdict: 3.2 – Pass
