REVIEW: Araknis #1of 4

Creators:  Michael & Mario Ortiz

Story/Pencils:  Michael Ortiz

Story/Inks:  Mario Ortiz

Digital Colors & Graphics:  Gorilla Graphix

Letters:  Robin Spehar

Review:  Art Bee

Once again I am bringing you a floppy book from my dusty box of yesteryear. This time I am sharing Araknis #1. Until it was pulled out of my comic box, its memory was lost to me. Once I started rereading it, my brain began pulling the recessed memories out of my dusty forgotten box of yester-memories. I recall not liking this comic, which is why I never bought the other three issues. 

This story is about a man named Jonathan Blackwell who is possessed by an entity called Araknis, which is some kind of guardian. Part of the story is centered on a villain named Cryptus wanting to capture the Gate of Ages to gain immortality from a demon lord named Asteroth. 

The reason I didn’t like this comic book back then is valid. My issue with it was it's a carbon copy of Todd McFarlane’s Spawn. Heaven versus Hell. News reports. Antihero with demonic powers who had lost his wife. Those are just some of the obvious parallels. The “creators” probably needed to identify themselves as just story writers here. Being a creator is something more than a writer. They have plagiarized too many aspects of Spawn in my opinion, and Morning Star Productions, Inc. and editor, Mike Renegar, should have recognized this. Maybe they had no idea and it was just a coincidence. If that is true, these comic book writers needed to read more comics in the genre they are entering.

The artwork is really good. Its best quality is the backgrounds, which are amazingly detailed. There are only two issues I have with the artwork. The first is the eyes of a woman on page 13. They are really screwed up. The second is the coloring firm, Gorilla Graphix. If they are going to put the work into drawing this comic, find another artist to color it. A “coloring” firm seems like a cheap thing to do.

My current reading reveals this to be a good story, but the similarities to Spawn are too numerous to ignore. I may look into completing the mini-series in the future but will not pay much for them. Part of me feels guilty for just owning it.

REVIEW: Blackhawk #239

Creators: Chuck Cuidera, Bob Powell, Will Eisner

Review: Madman Miller

I scored two issues of this old timer for 2 Washingtons apiece at first sight. I had to have them for the covers alone; they are classically epic in every sense. Pure comic glory. 

I had never heard of Blackhawk or the Blackhawks before DC's New 52 launched. I'm admittedly not a huge fan of or reader of DC comics so I didn’t buy the New 52 books, but I understand the newer incarnation of said series is nothing like its humble Nazi-smashin', Chinese-bashing Grandpappy. The 52 only lasted 8 issues so it must have been heavy on the mehs. I can't say that about this Super Nazi-bashin' issue though. I can’t help it. I love the corny dialogue, the ridiculous battle cry, and those old school ads in these golden oldies get me every time.

Blackhawk is the mysterious Nazi-bashin' leader of the Blackhawk team. He’s more or less the DC equivalent to Marvel's Nick Fury. In his ragtag super-team we have The Golden Centurion in gold armor. He can fire off blasts of pure liquid gold. The Listener is the pj wearing communications expert. The Weapons Expert is the master of weaponry . . .

M'sieu Machine is the French demolitions expert. The Leaper is in a rubber-titanium suit that allows him to leap great distances. And last but not least we have probably the most interesting character, Dr. Hands, the Chinese martial artist and sidekick of Blackhawk with beryllium-encased hands. In the original run Dr. Hands, aka Chop-Chop, started life as the Chinese cook comic relief. 

This issue deals with a super-Nazi killing machine pulling a Captain America and crawling out of a glacier. Iron Hammer thinks WW II is still happening and does his “evil plot” thing. The ace pilots of Team Blackhawk put that Nazi sumbitch outta business and all ends well. Just like every other book of the period it’s pretty much a typical "good guy is always right".

Other than the covers and the history lesson, I found that I really don’t care about this book. It’s just not my kind of thing, but good for them. I’ll just buy for the covers, not the cheese.

REVIEW: American Flagg No. 18

Writer/artist: Howard Chaykin
Review: Will Dubbeld

I admittedly know very little about Howard Chaykin's American Flagg, or much about First Comics' 1985 starting lineup for that matter. Every Quarter Bin pickup from First always had an ad for Flagg though, and they always intrigued. They perpetually showed this square-jawed, uniformed do-gooder kicking in a door or giving some punk what for. 
I presumed the character was some sort of Storm Saxon/Judge Dredd character whose name was American Flagg.
Turns out I was wrong.

Turns out his name is Reuben.

American Flagg no. 18 is the finale of a multi-part arc, and I was understandably a bit confused. In addition to not having a frame of reference for the story, I was utterly unfamiliar with the characters and surroundings and had to extrapolate quite a bit. I could have consulted the Internet, but I opted to approach the experience as if my younger self were reading this random issue of American Flagg.

My younger self had no internet and learned the hard way, from Complete Handbooks of the Marvel Universe and DC's Who's Whoseries. Remember that next time you're shit-posting on some hapless website, whippersnappers. We Old Guard had to learn things the hard way.

Tangents aside, AF no. 18 opens with a news report bemoaning the death of Commissar Bullock at the hands of a terrorist named The Black Beaver and his associate, an unlicensed prostitute. Methinks this funnybook may have been written with tongue firmly planted in cheek . . .
We follow the investigation Reuben Flagg pursues in order to get to the bottom of Bullock's murder as chicanery is afoot.

Reuben Flagg . . . cracks me up every time.

Mr. Flagg is a Plexus Ranger, by the way. Plexus being a portmanteau of Texas and . . . I dunno, plexiglass or something . . .
Using the full power of my Holmesian Deduction I think that the backdrop for American Flagg is some alternate timeline/slightly dystopian future where the Soviet Union won the Cold War or perhaps invaded the USA . . . Red Dawn style. 
The original Red Dawn. Not the b.s. remake. Clearly.
In any case, there's a lot of Eastern Bloc influence mixed with Southwestern flavor here, and it's interesting to say the least.

Ranger Flagg discovers the Commissar was murdered by a double agent from the Pan African Air Force and pinned the crime on the hapless Black Beaver. 
Flagg does this with the aid of his robot cowboy companion and a talking cat named Raul.

Hijinx and shenanigans at the Hangman's Tree ensue, and I finished this book a bit slack-jawed at what the hell I just read. Attempting to parse out the details of this comic was confounding but at the same time fairly rewarding. Having no baggage or preconceived notions allowed me to enjoy the book as a face value punch-up and that's about it.  As stated previously, the book is fairly tongue in cheek and those familiar with Chaykin's writing will find his omnipresent (sometimes slightly cringey) commentary on race and gender within as well.

I will say that Chaykin's art is surprisingly strong in this issue.  I'll have to investigate further but I've got the feeling that Howard Chaykin is one of those artists that peaked in the '80s-early '90s and has shown a bit of a decline in the years since. The art displayed the familiar thick, almost muddy, look that Chaykin's comics tend to have, but it was much clearer and more well-defined than contemporary pieces. 
As an added bonus, this issue's cover is great, if not possessing a bit of the aforementioned Chaykin Cringe. A woman who appears to be some sort of saloon girl is gagged and tied to a tree whilst our titular hero squares off in a two-fisted dust-up with someone off-page. That someone looks like he may be an evil cowboy and apparently intends to brand our hapless saloon girl on the ass with a red-hot poker shaped like the Soviet hammer and sickle.
Good lord, that's nothing if not a hefty tip of the hat to the "Women in Peril" genre, men's pulp magazines of yore, and pre-Code fetish nasties.
Weasels ripped my flesh indeed . . .

I picked up a run of 20-some odd American Flagg issues at an antique mall for about 50 cents apiece, and they've sat unread due to my ever-growing backlog of comics.  Having finally read one random issue hasn't encouraged me to run right out and pick up the rest of the series, but when the time presents itself, I'll certainly immerse myself in the remaining issues I've got.