How does one review a Tank Girl comic book? Well, a good start would be telling you that this review is going to contain both spoilers and profanity…
Written by Alan C. Martin
Illustrated by Jim MahfoodA heart-shaped box of Tank Girl delights: peer inside The Tank; gasp at The Annual Swearing Competition; cheer as our heroes rip it up in The Automatic Psychedelic Hand-Grenade Crowbar Shit-Storm Massacre; and wonder why the hell anyone would choose Tank Girl as a babysitter. All you need is love. All you need is Tank Girl.
By the nature of its mere existence, a Tank Girl comic book defies definition or explanation. The book operates as its heroine operates – moving ahead at full-speed through a post-apocalyptic world with the attention span of a 4-year old. Evidence enough of this lies in the fact that there are technically nine different “vignettes” in this 24 page issue. A few of these segments are 1-page spreads of chaotic Jim Mahfood art with free-form poetry, while others are longer form bits that can end in punchlines or violence (and you can never tell which of those you will get).
“Everybody Loves Tank Girl” is no exception to the rule that anthology-style comics with multiple segments will ultimately contain some stories that are significantly better than others. One of the highlights of the issue is a vignette titled, “Feldman Haim”, in which Tank Girl is tasked to babysit the story’s titular character. While hiding out from a villainous gang, Tank Girl cautiously goes to the door of her house to find that she’s forgotten about her promise to babysit their son. There’s a keen bit of commentary when the boy begins to watch “Medal of Duty”, a children’s cartoon based on a violent war video game. It’s not exactly a subtle societal jab, but it is one that seems rather prescient. This kind of sobering picture of the future is dropped into the book every once in a while, but Mahfood & Martin whisk us away or make a dick joke before things ever get heavy.
Another highlight is “The 16th Annual Australian Swearing Competition”, which is exactly what it sounds like and contains virtually no political commentary whatsoever. Though the segment does impressive things with a variety of 4-letter words, the timing of the writing and the expressive cartooning is the star. Seeing Tank Girl intensely focused and practicing her cursing under her breath before the competition is just one of the many cleverly rendered panels in this story.
On the other hand, other segments are too spastic or unfocused to make much of an impression. Like Tank Girl herself, these segments show a carelessness toward being “about” anything. One story tells of the time that Tank Girl and her kangaroo friend Booga dropped acid and went out to fight Riot Police. While the premise sounds like a hoot, there’s little to be taken from the story. It’s a few pages of Booga and Tank Girl hacking away at faceless hoards. And when the jokes fall flat, they fall hard. In another segment, the gang tricks Booga into believing that he agreed to pay for everyone’s dinner. That, and the fact that they tell him he ordered “devilled cock” (chicken), is literally the extent of the punchline. The only consistency throughout the issue is that every page has tons of little details, easter eggs, and jokes to look for in the background. It makes the weak segments at least a little bit easier to digest.
Though Tank Girl is tailor made for those who appreciate counter-culture or who actively tread off the beaten path in art and media, there is a surprising amount of infantile toilet humor pervading through these vignettes. The word “fart” is present almost as much as that other F-word. Perhaps that, in itself, is counter-culture. Perhaps it serves to keep the political or societal statements light. Perhaps it’s just annoying. Whatever it is, you know that’s what you’re signing up for when you pick up a Tank Girl comic book.
Final Verdict: 6.0 – Tank Girl fans can support this, but there is a low point for every high point in this book and I can’t recommend the uninitiated pick it up.
