This just in: everyone’s leaving everything.

This can’t be right. Marvel has actually lured someone away from DC with an exclusive contract. (Running tally: Marvel, 3; DC, several thousand.) This time, it’s Michael Lark, gifted artist of the wonderful Gotham Central. It wasn’t that long ago that writers Greg Rucka and Ed Brubaker were saying in Newsarama interviews how integral lark was to the title, so how will they go about finding a replacement? Here’s Rucka’s take:

“At the end of the day, and if we’re lucky, the decision is going to be a joint one between Ed, myself and [editor] Matt [Idelson], and it will be someone we all agree on. I’m honestly less concerned with somebody who will be able to replicate the stylistic as much as finding someone who was as killed as Michael with the acting, and the subtleties that required.”

How about Sean Phillips? Or Steve Epting?

Maybe there’s some kind of Newsarama curse at work. Not long after Christopher Priest sang the praises of Captain American and Falcon artist Joe Bennett, DC lured Bennett away with (wait for it) an exclusive contract. Priest, unfailingly decent, optimistic, and unlucky, has a request:

“But we are begging you, retailers, to not cut your orders. There’s no reason to. The book will go on, but at some point Sam [Falcon] will shove Steve [Cap] under a bus and take over the title in some fashion.”

I really enjoy the way Priest writes the Falcon, so I’m hoping this comes about. Maybe comic synergy will assert itself, and Lark will end up drawing the title.

When he isn’t busy backfilling plot holes in Avengers: Disassembled (which he might have done prior to publication), editor Tom Brevoort is explaining what’s going on with critical darling She-Hulk. The short version is, the current run will end with the 12th issue; a couple of months later, Marvel will re-launch the title. Brevoort earns a tiny bit of good will with the following remark:

“She-Hulk was launched during a period in which we started up dozens of titles, so it’s no surprise that it got lost in the mix.”

The series will start up again in May with writer Dan Slott and, miracle of miracles, a concentrated promotional push from its publishers. (I remain unconvinced that Marvel, given its track record, won’t launch another glut of superfluous books at the exact same time. You need only look at the summary of Marvel news from Wizard World Dallas to see how much they have in the pipeline.)

Wedging Jessica Jones into virtually every corner of the Marvel Universe apparently takes a lot of time, so Brian Bendis will be leaving Daredevil a year from now. (I kid, though she does seem to be slated for a lot of face time, considering her appeal is that she’s a rough-edged fringe character.) Mark Waid is about to leave the Baxter Building, but not to worry. Marvel knows that three Fantastic Four titles (four, if you count the Marvel Age book) just aren’t enough to meet rabid demand, so they’ve got a Joe Casey mini-series (Fantastic Four: First Family) on deck and what appears to be a villain spin-off (Ed Brubaker’s Books of Doom) on deck.

How do you translate a cinematic experience to a graphic novel? “Widescreen” storytelling has become common enough, but what about the subtler things that movies can achieve? That’s one of the artistic ambitions behind Oni’s original graphic novel The Awakening, and the results are intriguing, if mixed.

The cinematic genre at hand is a school of Italian horror known as giallo. According to Awakening author Neal Shaffer, “the thing that distinguishes these Italian works is that they are more about a sustained mood and atmosphere than a quick edit and loud shriek.”

Shaffer and artist Luca Genovese have certainly achieved a sustained mood of helplessness in this piece. A circle of friends at a posh private school are being murdered one by one. Francesca, a newcomer to the clique, survived an attack, but it’s left her in an almost catatonic state. She has visions of the next killing but can do nothing to prevent them in her uncommunicative state.

Landis, the detective investigating the brutal killings, faces his own frustrations. The school’s administration is obstructively secretive, the only witness can’t share what she’s seen, and Landis has no other useful leads. A popular teacher is under suspicion and unable to help his students cope with their grief and terror. There’s an almost surreal inevitability to these events, a pervasive sense of doom.

The down side to the creative team’s commitment to giallo’s conventions – the primacy of atmosphere over a detailed narrative – is that it doesn’t hold together very well for me as a story. Shaffer and Genovese are less concerned with specifics of plot, and while the story is coherent enough, it’s beyond minimalist in terms of detail. The killer’s identity is ultimately irrelevant, as motives aren’t ever fully explained. It’s eerie, but it’s weightless.

And that may constitute a criticism of the genre more than of this specific work (provided I understand giallo’s conventions correctly). They’ve obviously translated the feel well from screen to page, but my tastes run more to the conventional mystery than a style-over-substance mood piece. (I like the drawing room scene at the end where all is revealed.)

That said Shaffer and Genovese have done a marvelous job of finding a cinematic style of visual storytelling. Establishing shots of the various settings, eerie moments where the “camera” seems to linger on an object as the action moves out of the frame, progressively tighter panels irising in on a subject… it’s all tremendously effective. Genovese is an extremely talented visual storyteller. His work reminds me of Sam Kieth’s on books like Four Women, combining the mundane and the surreal and the horrific.

Reading through Oni’s The Awakening the first time was actually a bit frustrating, as I had next to no knowledge of the giallo genre. On subsequent readings, after some web research, I was better able to appreciate the book for its ambitions in regards to its source material. But am I really that unusual for my lack of giallo literacy? I wonder how many casual readers will be a bit baffled by the book because they’re unaware of its inspirations.

Ultimately though, The Awakening is a laudable attempt to expand genre horizons in graphic novels, even if the genre in question is more interesting to me in concept than execution. It may be style over substance, but it’s certainly got style.

Newsarama has a great interview with Peter David about upcoming developments in the excellent Fallen Angel. Look for guest appearances from characters from an Epic mini-series David did with George Perez. Wait… Epic? Creator-owned Marvel characters in a DC book? How did that happen? David explains:

“DC was very resistant to investing the time, energy, cost and manpower for what they perceived as little-to-no return. I mean, it’s one thing to clear the hurdles for a DC/Marvel crossover that’s going to sell a hundred zillion copies, but this? I had to do a lot of talking, up to and including offering to pay the legal fees involved.”

I’m continually impressed by the lengths he’ll go to for this title. It’s just exciting to see that kind of tenacity from a creator.

Marvel wants to know which of its characters needs a revamp. (I’ll pause for a moment while you all provide your own punch lines.) I voted for Scorpion, largely because it’s my sign. I hate to see my fellow Scorpios represented even by implication by a dumb thug who hasn’t changed his underwear since the 1960s. We’re “deep, mysterious, and magnetically attractive.” Just ask Kevin Kline, k.d. lang, Bjork, or Owen Wilson.

Johanna at Cognitive Dissonance has found a really interesting interview with Devin Grayson, where the writer talks candidly about the state of women in the comics industry and the uncomfortable role of pioneer:

“And I’m delighted to be able to expand their perceptions of what females can do in the world, or to be in any way a part of generating interest in this incredible medium among my gender peers. But all of this was the last thing on my mind when I began, and an uncomfortable thing to be lauded for. It’s just a happy accident, but sometimes I feel like I’m supposed to be content with my achievements in a pioneering context, rather than in a creative context.”

(If I were a very small person, this would be the point where I’d suggest being discontent with Grayson’s creative context is entirely reasonable. Wait… I just did. Drat my smallness!)

The latest Comics Remix is up at PopCultureShock. The montage page is depressing and hilarious… mostly hilarious.

Tom the Dog loved The Incredibles. I saw it with the hubby this weekend, and I thought it was… okay. It was entertaining overall, and some of the sequences offered really spectacular action, but I found some of the voice work grating, the tone a little muddled, and the pace a bit lagging at points. Of course, I could watch an entire movie about the costume designer, Edna Mode.

In Image’s Firebirds, Rebecca Reed isn’t the world’s best mother. Her fifteen-year-old daughter, Emily, has spent most of her childhood in boarding schools. Rebecca tells herself that it’s in Emily’s best interests and to keep her safe, but Rebecca’s also unsure of how to be a hands-on parent.

Beyond the normal anxieties of a young single mother, Rebecca is also the super-heroine Firebird. She’s kept her secret from Emily, but circumstances force the truth out in the open, even as Emily’s own powers start to emerge. The situation also forces mother and daughter to deal with each other more directly than ever before, as Rebecca learns to be a parent and Emily learns to be a super-hero.

It’s a great, character-based set-up, and writer Jay Faerber makes the most of the sometimes prickly, sometimes touching dynamics. As first issues go, this one does a terrific job of introducing the cast and establishing the situation without resorting to excessive exposition. Background is provided more organically through dialogue, and the fact that Rebecca and Emily don’t know each other very well helps. Their tricky process of connecting opens them up to readers.

There’s a nice balance between mother and daughter, too. Neither has too much of an upper hand. Emily’s understandably resentful of her mother’s secrecy and neglect, but at the same time she relies on Rebecca to understand her powers. Despite the tension, Emily seems genuinely eager to have her mother as a regular presence in her life. Rebecca is afraid of screwing up, but she’s reached the point that she can’t ignore her responsibilities any longer. She’s anxious about the change in circumstances, but she’s committed to making the best of them.

Faerber opens up the possibilities of his scenario without overstating them. Readers see enough of the characters’ relationship to figure out the interesting ways it might evolve. He also has a nice handle on the super-heroic end of the equation, with nice scenes of Emily’s first, somewhat disastrous outing as an adventurer. Emily doesn’t have much of a choice and does as well as she can, but she isn’t a natural. Enthusiastic as she is about following in her mother’s footsteps, she’s smart enough to be anxious about it.

Art by Andres Ponce has a lot of potential. At many points, it reminds me of the graceful, realistic work of a Stuart Immonen. A sequence showing Rebecca teaching Emily how to fly has wonderful emotional punch; it’s like watching a kid ride a two-wheeler for the first time. Unfortunately, Ponce seems to have trouble resisting boob shots. Emily looks like a realistic teen, but Rebecca will happily contort herself in any way necessary to show off her considerable rack. It isn’t a bit necessary, and it undermines the positive portrayals Faerber has crafted. (Fans of DC’s Birds of Prey will be familiar with this disconnect.)

Still, arched backs aside, this is a strong and interesting introduction to the Firebirds. I haven’t seen many titles explore the parent-child dynamic with such a balanced touch, and there’s lots of potential for future character development. If the art can better suit the tone of the writing, this book could be pure pleasure.

H at the Comic Treadmill manages to dislike Avengers 503 even more than I did:

“Avengers 503, the concluding part in the so-called “Disassembled” story, was the final straw for me. This book is a hate-letter from start to finish by writer Brian Bendis and his superiors. I get it. Marvel hates me, the reader. I won’t let the door hit me in the ass on my way out.”

But they love your money, H! That’s why they keep offering you variant covers and director’s cuts!

If I didn’t already have a surfeit of imaginary boyfriends, I would certainly add Tom the Dog to the list for pungent critical comments like this:

“We3 is the kind of story that makes me think Grant Morrison is a super genius. JLA: Classified is the kind of story that makes me think Grant Morrison is a pretentious blithering jackass.”

Johanna Draper Carlson has declared the adorable Imadoki! a Comic Worth Reading (or, technically speaking, a Manga Worth Reading). Surprising absolutely no one, I agree. So does Dorian. And Greg at iComics.

Nothing critical about it except for the tacit endorsement of the contest itself, but time is running out to make a bid for Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life at Peiratikos.

After you’re done there, stop by Yet Another Comics Blog to help Dave decide which Oni graphic novel to read next. You know he’d do it for you.

These folks always make me feel like a pretender to the title “curmudgeon.” It’s totally out of context, but I laughed and laughed at this line:

“Well, I am a physicist, and the answer to what happens when you puncture a nuclear reactor is: Pretty much nothing.”

It reminds me of the bit in Annie Hall where Marshall McLuhan steps out from behind a movie poster to deflate a blowhard.

Two new titles came out this week, both taking off-kilter looks at the super-hero genre. One charmed me right off the bat. The other managed to work my last nerve. (Guess which one has been covered in microscopic detail by on-line comics news outlets?)

The Intimates (by Joe Casey, Giuseppe Camuncoli, Sandra Hope and Jim Lee for Wildstorm) sure seems pleased with itself. That’s fine, as it saves me the trouble. It’s a comic take on the super-hero training academy, and it seems content to smirk at its own set-up. The students are generally disaffected and obnoxious, and the teachers are largely dysfunctional and ineffective. The best bits are generally the small ones, one-liners buried in the crawl that runs through the issue on the bottom of every page (which is, at times, almost impossible to read). There’s some innovation and ambition in evidence here, but the sulky, self-mocking cast leaves me cold.

From Image, there’s Firebirds by Jay Faerber and Andres Ponce. It’s been described as “Gilmore Girls with super-heroes,” and it lives up to the promise of that pitch. Shortly before she turns sixteen, Emily Reed discovers her mother, Rebecca, is the super-heroine called Firebird. Circumstances demand they spend more time together than ever before as Emily’s own powers start to emerge. There’s a great mother-daughter dynamic forming, and both characters get a solid introduction with the promise of interesting developments down the line. Art by Ponce is a treat, reminiscent of the elegant, realistic work of Stuart Immonen.

Firebirds hasn’t gotten near the push that The Intimates enjoyed, which is too bad. Firebirds has a simpler, more heartfelt premise and a more immediately appealing cast. I hope more buzz builds up around it, as it really deserves the attention. (Full review to come over the weekend.)

It seems like, every time I’m feeling nostalgic for letters pages in comic books, I actually read one. Here are some excerpts from a letter printed in Avengers 503. It’s from a cancer survivor and longtime fan of the Scarlet Witch:

“I was only 14 [when he read his first Scarlet Witch story during a stay in the hospital], and through all the ups and downs, I have always looked forward to Wanda and company coming to my doorstep. I don’t know, I guess I just relate to her. Ups, downs, whatever, she always perseveres and survives, and has, in a wonderful way, been an inspiration to me. Wanda has kind of been my best friend and ally, telling me I can make it through the worst…”

“I guess it seems silly to you. I know she probably only seems like a comic character to you, but so much love has been put into her evolution over the years that to me she is much more. So thanks for not killing the Scarlet Witch in AVENGERS #502. In saving her life you really gave me more time also.”

For those of you not following the book, this letter is printed in the issue where Wanda is revealed to be insane, incapable of handling her powers, miring herself in fantasy to compensate for her losses, and responsible for the death of some of her dearest friends and the destruction of the team to which she’s devoted her adult life. She’s turned into a mindless vegetable at the end of it, deemed too dangerous to be allowed to function.

I’m honestly at a loss to figure out what Marvel had in mind by printing this letter. To give the reader the thrill of seeing his thoughts in print in his favorite comic? In the very issue where his gateway character, his inspiration, gets torn to shreds? I certainly don’t think they’re purposely trying to poke a sick reader in the eye, but that would seem to be the inevitable result.

Associate Editor Andy Schmidt’s response to the letter isn’t very illuminating:

“From everyone working on AVENGERS, thank you for this letter. I hope you’re interested in what’s happening with the Scarlet Witch, because we’ve got big plans for her.”

I shudder to imagine what those plans might include, honestly. And it pains me to imagine what this reader’s reaction will be to this particular issue. And I can’t imagine what they were thinking running this letter after this story. It seems… cold.

The entire column is representative of Marvel’s approach to the “Disassembled” event, a mixture of patently insincere fan service (“He’s a great character and we’re also sad to see him go.”) and snide fan-baiting (“Nobody likes Hank. I know we don’t here in the office. Hank is a stupid face.”), sometimes serving up both flavors simultaneously (“we all continue to enjoy these wonderful characters… and our fun little hobby we call super-heroes.”). Oh, and there’s plenty of trite shilling (“And if you hated “Disassembled,” you’ll probably like NEW AVENGERS #1!”).

At Thought Balloons, Kevin Melrose thinks about comics criticism:

“These books [like Batman: Hush, Identity Crisis and Avengers Disassembled] and, in fact, most of Diamond’s Top 50, are virtually immune to critical influence. A negative review of X-Force or JLA is no more likely to sway readers than a positive review. So, why do reviewers — bloggers, columnists, et al — bother with them?”

It’s an interesting question, and it’s generated some interesting answers. Dave Carter at Yet Another Comics Blog, who reviews a daunting number and impressive range of books each week, offers his philosophy:

“By reviewing popular works, the reviewer allows the reader to gain a perspective on the reviewer’s tastes, biases, etc., with a work that they’ve both encountered. This allows the reader to make a more informed evaluation of the reviewer’s opinions for works that are unknown to the reader.”

That’s an excellent point, I think. I’m really happy when I find a reviewer who offers good predictive value for me. By that, I mean I can tell by their response to a work whether I’ll enjoy it or not. This isn’t to say that predictive value can only be found with reviewers whose tastes I share. Often, the opposite is the case (i.e. “If they hate it, I’ll love it”).

One comics critic who has almost eerie predictive value for me (particularly in terms of manga) is Johanna Draper Carlson at Cognitive Dissonance and Comics Worth Reading (if she likes it, it’s almost guaranteed I will, too). She also makes the time to review a number of comics that are decidedly not worth reading. She echoes Carter’s thoughts on perspective, and adds some other reasons, including:

“I think I have something to say about craft, and using a popular book means that more people may be able to see the examples I’m using.”

In his original post, Melrose wonders if the comics critic might not best use their reviews to promote underdogs:

“It’s the lower-selling quality titles, both “mainstream” and independent, that readers may not know about. Are those the books reviewers should be spotlighting instead — the ones whose fates may depend on a few hundred additional readers?”

Paul O’Brien, who regularly provides excellent, entertaining reviews of Marvel’s X-books, with lower-profile titles thrown into the mix, sees it this way:

“As far as I’m concerned, the point of writing reviews is to write something vaguely interesting or entertaining. I don’t see what further purpose is needed. If people want to crusade, fine, but I don’t see that as being remotely inherent to the role of a reviewer.”

Since I’ve been reviewing, I’ve moved towards reserving formal critiques (the From the Stack posts) for books I enjoy, new (for me) discoveries, under-promoted quality titles, what have you. I would say I favor underdogs, and I’ve reviewed a few titles I think deserve a wider audience (She-Hulk, Fallen Angel, Mystique) specifically for that reason, but as far as manga is concerned, I honestly don’t know how the stuff I really like (Sgt. Frog, Planetes, Hot Gimmick, Kindaichi Case Files, etc.) sells. I mean, I could be writing a review of the manga equivalent of… I don’t know… Ultimate X-Men.

I post about higher profile stuff all the time, but it’s mostly just snark and venting at what I perceive to be slipping standards at corporate comics companies. I don’t know if I’ve made a philosophical choice to avoid reviewing them or if they just make me too tired to consider them seriously and thoughtfully, beyond visceral, fanboyish eye-rolling. But I do seem to be heading in the direction Melrose suggests.

Should I have a more refined critical philosophy than “Me like! Me tell people who read blog!”? Probably, but my current methodology works for me, and it lets me be lazy and intermittent in my reviewing. I did have an odd experience at the shop the other week, when I was asking the shopkeeper to reserve some lower profile titles for me. Apparently, everything weird (i.e., non-Marvel, non-DC) I’ve asked him for sells really well.

With geek power comes geek responsibility. Babe Force, you’re out of luck.

Sorry for the lack of blogging lately. A variety of small circumstances (and the pall of recent events, barring some kind of miracle) have left me in a bit of a funk. Normal yammering should resume soon.

I’m all about the list-making today. People are talking about what current comic books will make it to classic status. I’ve decided to put on my cockeyed (shut up) optimist hat, and go with titles I think should make classic status. In other words, I’m focusing on the underdogs — great books that I think have the artistic merit to stand the test of time but might be too far off the radar screen to be put on a list with Watchmen or Sandman. By “classic,” I mean books that are always available in reprint and generally in demand in whatever format. Here goes:

The Headmen arc from Defenders and the Brand Corporation arc from Avengers (Marvel): These are just tremendously subversive stories, even without the “for Marvel” disclaimer. They’ve never been collected to my knowledge, which is a shame. Both incorporate politics, big business, power plays, dubious meritocracies, and about a dozen other ideas while still being terrific super-hero stories. Some of the earliest Marvel comics I ever read, they’re still some of the best.

Leave it to Chance (Image): With a great cast and a fascinating setting, I still miss this fun, inventive book. I would love to see a revival with writer James Robinson and artist Paul Smith, but failing that, I’d be happy to see this become one for the ages.

Amelia Rules! (Renaissance Press): I love seeing people ooh and aah over the Complete Peanuts collections (as well they should). I think Amelia has the same potential staying power as Charlie Brown and company, as they share a lot of the same qualities: antic humor, poignancy, insight, and irresistible charm.

Chase (DC): I told you I was going off the radar. (Seriously, I saw a girl on campus wearing a velour track suit. If that can stand the test of time, surely Chase can get a comeback!) This book will always have a place in my heart and at the top of my “brilliant but cancelled” list. Do I honestly think that, 25 years from now, people will be stopping by the comic shop to pick up the new printing of the Chase TPB? No, but I would love it if, 25 years from now, people were doing just that and wondering what the hell comics fans were thinking when they passed it up in the first place.

Starman (DC): The second James Robinson title on the list falls into the category of super-hero books Steven Grant calls for in this week’s Permanent Damage: “Good ones, with original ideas.” Robinson cast aside a lot of super-hero conventions, focusing instead on imaginative storytelling, a sense of place for Opal City, and ongoing character development. It’s not without weak patches, but its overall quality, inventiveness, and ambition make it one of my favorites.

George Perez’s Wonder Woman reboot (DC): I was flipping through Previews and was very happy to see another collection of this coming out in January. As if the spectacular art weren’t reason enough, this is a textbook example of a character reboot done well. Perez had so many interesting ideas and such a vision for what Diana was about that any whiff of corporate stunt fades.

The Kindaichi Case Files (Tokyopop): This wonderful mystery manga could easily become the new Encyclopedia Brown if it just manages to capture more attention. The quality is there, and the mysteries are great.

American Flagg (First): It’s mostly nostalgia in this case. This was the first “weird” book I ever bought (in other words, one not published by Marvel or DC). I’ll be interested to revisit it when the new collection comes out.

That’s enough for now.