Created by the team behind the “Adventure Time” comic, and published by the BOOM! Box imprint, “The Midas Flesh” is coming up to the halfway point of its eight-issue run. This is a tricky logistical moment in terms of plot, but it’s all anchored by a solid concept and crisp art.
Written by Ryan North
Illustrated by Shelli Paroline and Braden LambDinosaurs, spaceships, and adventure — OH MY! With the Federation hot on their tails, how long can our favorite crew hold onto the source of the greatest power of all time: THE MIDAS TOUCH?
If you haven’t been keeping up with “The Midas Flesh”, it’s basically Greek legend meets Solaris. Greek king gets wish, turns everything he touches – and by law of transitive property, the whole planet – into gold. Eons later, a team of rebel astronauts penetrates the quarantined Earth’s defenses and tries to find out what happened. Also, there is a dinosaur and he is very charming.
At this point in the story, the explorers are in the process of figuring out the nature of the Midas touch as well as weaponizing it – mostly by necessity, because the authorities are hot on their trail. This makes for a bit of a clunky issue; North is spinning out the mechanics of the Midas touch when we, as readers, already have a grasp on it. This isn’t so much a flaw as it is a function of the series’ pacing; it’s the sort of expository moment that has to be dealt with before the story can move forward, and probably wouldn’t be noticed at all in trade format. All the meat of the issue is saved for the end, where the team is forced to take a prisoner; there’s some interesting moral ambiguity going on here, and it looks like the consequences of this decision will be momentous.
The comic’s most significant weakness in terms of writing is a smug quality to to the characters that makes them difficult to engage with. Captain Joey in particular is cocky to the point of being obnoxious; when negotiating with the space-authorities, she has the offhand air of a teenager wheedling for more allowance. Most of the time, this dichotomy is played for comedy; but Captain Joey is a criminal dealing with a superweapon, and it feels like a little gravitas is needed here to balance the silliness. Maybe this is something the characters will grow into over the course of the series, but at the moment, it’s rough going.
All the while, Shelli Paroline and Braden Lamb’s art is straight-up bold and cartoony, laying out an approachable cast of characters and a clean-cut series of landscapes. What’s particularly interesting is the depth of expression the non-human characters get across – Cooper and the prisoner, Sluggo, being the two examples. Cooper’s already broken our hearts in previous issues, but Sluggo catches us off-guard, getting across a good deal of his cantankerous personality despite not really having a face.
What the clean aesthetic does sacrifice is a feeling of movement. A sequence in which a space shuttle crashes takes a few glances for the nature of impact to become evident; the dogfight leading up to said crash has a similar static quality. The story looks best when the focus is on the characters and their interactions; the emotions and gestures always ring true, bringing a larger-than-life, tableau-vivant feel to this political situation.
At the same time, the rich colours – particularly all the gold and orange tones on the Earth’s surface – add lushness and a strong sense of place to the tale. In a lot of ways the planet itself is a character in this story, and the way the lustre and sheen of it comes across adds a nice feeling of mystery and grandeur to the scenario.
This is high-concept sci-fi presented in a rigid capsule of comedy, with all of these elements being eclipsed at the moment by the brass-tacks demands of the plot. If “The Midas Flesh” feels like it’s getting where it’s going, it’s because it’s buoyed by the promise of the central concept and the friendly appeal of the art. And so, while this isn’t its most entertaining moment, all signs indicate that the best – and funniest – is yet to come.
Final Verdict: 7.7 – Hang in there.
