Namor The Sub-Mariner #1 (1990)

I'm a wee bit afraid of the ocean. There is no official phobia involved, just my sense of logic. You see, there are too many critters that can get you. Simple as that. I'm not keen on stepping foot into the world's largest death trap just for fun. I'll let others get their jollies mingling with jellyfish.

That being said, one may think it's odd I have so much affection for Namor #1. But it's the call of nostalgia rather than Neptune that draws me to the briny depths today. I was twelve years old when this comic was released in 1990. The golden age of my fandom. Some of you may be in the same boat despite the decade. Can you pick up a comic from your youth and memories crash over you like a tidal wave of sweet sentimentality? By the look on your face, I can tell that's a resounding yes. See that, we're not so different you and I. So sit back, get your galoshes on and join me as we revisit Namor The Sub-Mariner #1 (cover date April 1990) from Marvel Comics.

Namor stepped on a Lego.

The creators:

I've got a name for you, John Lindley Byrne. Ever heard of him?  The artistry is something to admire but his career is not without controversy. I'm not going to focus on any of that, so feel free and google to your heart's content if you enjoy digging in the dirt. I will say, with some terrific turns on classic characters, only a select few could draw finer than Byrne in his prime. 

Bob Wiacek is one of the all-time greats. With a resume longer than a CVS receipt, it's a good bet he's worked on some of your favorite books and deserves a tip of the cap.

Now for the story...

We are introduced to Caleb Alexander and his daughter Carrie. A pair of Marine Biologists studying secret testing grounds in the south Pacific aboard their boat, the Oracle. Noticing an aggressive blip on the radar, Carrie prepares to investigate but ends up shocked to witness what erupts from the water.

Don't let the ankle wings fool you, it's not Chicken of the Sea.

Believed to be dead by the world at large after the events of the Atlantis Attacks, it turns out Namor is alive and well. Scratch that, alive and crazier than a crab with bad credit! So much so, when Caleb and Carrie track him to a nearby island, the Sub-Mariner has taken out his scorn for false idols on the locals.

 Dude, it's Tinder not TIMBER! Next time just swipe left, okay?

Amid a haze of hallucination, Caleb and Carrie manage to calm Namor down. He follows them back to the Oracle where Caleb claims to have a cure for his bouts of bonkers. Speaking of nutty, the device Caleb has looks more like a fancy coffee machine rather than a solution for insanity. As comic fans though, we should all know to never judge a book by its cover or a doohickey for utter lack of sensible design. 

There was one side effect to the treatment. You no longer have nipples.

Looks aside, it's quite a handy dandy little gadget and Caleb's one clever cat. He's dedicated his life to studying Namor. Why? We'll get to that in a minute but first, the diagnosis. Namor has a blood problem and I'm not talking about the gang. He's a man of two worlds and needs a proper balance of both to function properly. Out of the water too long, cue the cuckoo clock. Log a little too much time on land, off to the loony bin. Caleb has formulated a way to please his plasma by keeping those pesky oxygen levels stable. This is a pretty neat plot point worth exploring...oh wait, obligatory origin time!

Roman. I'll name him Roman. No?

 The flashbacks aren't over folks. So why is Caleb so enamored with Namor? Gotta go back to WW2 when Caleb was just a lad living in Harlem. Following a ceremony honoring the Invaders at City Hall, he chased after Namor on his bike. With his eye to the sky, Caleb lost track of his surroundings and plummeted off a pier. Luckily, much like breaking your leg in a hospital, his hero was overhead. After the save that day, he dedicated his life to marine biology and studying the Sub-Mariner. He even named his own ship after the vessel Namor's father once commanded. Stalker skills are strong on this guy.

Did Grandma tell you about the restraining order?

It's also revealed that Caleb's got a bad ticker and is unable to dive, hence the reason for teaming up with his daughter. Namor claims he has much to consider and takes off. Personally, I think after all that blood work he should've at least had a cookie or some juice. One page and two weeks later he returns with a gift.

                        

 For the love of God, don't open it!

The chest is chock full of treasure. Namor has hatched a plan to reclaim all the riches lost at sea and invest the fortune in various business ventures.  Not to be accused of having barnacles as brains, he realizes the only way to influence surface dwellers is by flashing them with some green. Money that is, not his skivvies. But just when you thought it was safe to go into Wall Street, we meet Phoebe and her twin brother Desmond Marrs.

 Most twins share clothes, these two share a barber.

In typical Byrne fashion, a ton of story is crammed in here. There's also no real action to be had unless you count the trouncing of the tribe people. Yet, this is not a bad thing. Can you believe readers were treated to the "all-new direction" advertised on the cover? Gasp! It's true! A fresh, interesting take had arrived and if you were new to the character of Namor, you wouldn't miss a beat. I'll buy that for a dollar. Psst...I recently paid fifty cents for a copy. Imperius Rex!

What I would criticize are the off-panel details. While it only happened once in this issue when the Prince of Atlantis went off to ponder, this occurs again during Byrne's run and proves to be annoying. I'll consider it a give and take scenario, however as I was also wowed by his use of duo-shade starting with issue four. But that conversation is reserved for a future edition of Two Staple Gold.

I can see why I loved this at the age of twelve and better still, it stands up today. If you come across Namor The Sub-Mariner #1 on the shores of back issue beach, be sure to snag it.

 I brood better in blue.

-David Schultz

Want to see Namor battle a booger in the bronze age? CLICK HERE

* all external links used for informational purposes only.

Brave and the Bold #148

Originally published December 22nd 2017


                                                     

If anyone else is hungover from last night’s company Christmas party, please raise your hand. Only me? Ah well, it’s all good. I may have landed myself on the naughty list for my ill advised shenanigans with the xerox machine but I’m still chock full of holiday cheer!

Jolly would be a good word to describe my mood in all honesty. Here I am with you, the fine reader, and a copy of the Brave and the Bold #148 ( DC Comics, March ’79). By cover alone, this has the look of a Christmas classic. Batman and Plastic Man take on the mob in a yuletide yarn, what’s not to like? Grab yourself a glass of eggnog and join me for a review of “The Night the Mob Stole X-Mas” by Bob Haney, Joe Staton and Jim Aparo.

                                       

Dirty, rotten, no good, stinkin’ buttleggers. You may be asking yourself “What the hell is that? A new brand of yoga pants?” Sounds right but no. Back in the day, everyone was wacky for tobacky. That may be a stretch but it was still a socially acceptable vice of sorts. So stealing smokes was a profitable racket. This Navidad narrative begins with Batman on the trail of group of hijackers that robbed a cigarette truck. Don’t worry, this doesn’t mean Bats is promoting puffing. He’s just not down with murder…or Gotham getting goosed on taxes.

     
“The judges gave him a 10 for executing the landing and lambasting lecture maneuver.”

Batman is known for having cool gadgets and per the norm, they will be on full display in this issue. Still, for every Batarang or can of Shark Repellent, The Batmobile will always be the coolest. Everyone has a favorite and there are plenty of versions to choose from but boy, this panel makes me wonder if the Dark Knight has taken too may hits on the noggin.

      
“Know what else is real bad? Driving in a snow storm with no roof.”

As Bats cruises around with the top down, presumably so everyone can hear his kicking sound system, he notices a child run into the street. A taxi comes within inches of the boy when he is saved by a street Santa with elastic limbs. Batman is shocked to discover it’s Plastic Man in a merry mask and he angrily grabs the garb. Two things here Ebenezer Wayne. First, you of all people should know maintaining one’s secret identity is paramount and two, think about the kids man. Would you tear off Mickey Mouse’s head at Disneyland? Dreams and sense of wonder are now deader than your parents. Nice job.

     
“A man dressed as a flying rat objects to my fake beard!”

The two heroes briefly chat with Plas explaining he quit his carnival gig to play Kris Kringle for the Salvation Army. Batman is fairly bummed he’s become a bell ringer and tosses him some spare change before resuming his search for the buttleggers. While distracted looking for the thieves, a new ghastly crime has occurred. The stogies are second fiddle to the theft of “Lacy’s” Department Store nativity display! Yes, Batman is also a defender of trademark law.

                               

“Wait, the trucker’s murder didn’t get a Code Red. Never mess with another man’s manger!”

Hope you guys haven’t shipped off your wish lists to the North Pole yet. Especially if you didn’t ask for your very own Whirly-Bat! It conveniently fits in your trunk because you never know when you might need it.  Stuck in traffic? Whirly-Bat! Mother in Law coming over for dinner? Whirly-Bat outta dodge! Order now, Operators are standing by!

    

“Warning: Small parts and razor sharp helicopter blades. Not suitable for minors. Except Robin.”

With all my Whirly-Bat excitement I failed to mention Plas was kidnapped. How it all went down irritates me to no end. I should love the dickens out of it really. The elements I typically enjoy are there and It’s completely off the wall zany. But even being half conscious, I can’t get over the fact Plas decided to leave a clue in the snow rather than use that same arm to knock out the driver. Sure, thanks to that tidbit he was discovered by Batman but I’m positive an idling tractor trailer would’ve had the same effect.  I suppose it was an excuse to gift us with one of the more random and unnecessary panels in comic book history. A Reindeer grubbing on tobacco.

 

“On that fateful day, Prancer lost his innocence.”

Plastic Man reveals the Mob has behind all of the holiday hoodwinking and are high tailing it down to Florida in an effort to appease their dying boss. Odd request by the Godfather but what do you expect coming from this story. Time to visit some Blue Haired Betty’s and battle some baddies down in the Sunshine State. But first, Batman needs a bath…in a car wash. Don’t ask. Have some ribbon candy and enjoy the ride.

                                         

“Batman gets boisterous after a hard buffing.”

They arrive in time to bust the party and save Christmas in Gotham but it’s how they win the day that’s spectacular. The Mobsters had arranged for fake snow to be dropped overhead while celebrating. Plastic Man uses this to his advantage by turning his head into a funnel and blasting the mafia into submission. The good news is, following this adventure he quit his gig as Saint Nick and started smuggling coke. Poor guy still believes it’s only synthetic snowflakes but appreciates getting paid in cash.

 

“Tony Montana eat your heart out.”

Holly Jolly or Ho-Ho Horrible?

Sorry, can’t get my Grinch on this time. This issue was fantastic. Utterly ridiculous and a whole lot of fun. What else can you ask for from a Holiday themed issue? The artwork, while the pencilling credit is given to Staton, it was Jim Aparo’s star that shined the brightest and the pages looked phenomenal. I will admit, Bob Haney’s script is only amusing due to it’s seasonal nature. I’ve busted his hump in a review of his previous work so let’s consider this time around as my attempt at puckering up under the mistletoe.

Next time you’re ready to slap ten smackeroos down on one of the newer anthologies DC is serving up, don’t. Turn around, head to the bins and start digging for Brave and the Bold #148.

Now, If I could only find out what happened to that poor Reindeer from earlier. Sweet Mother Hubbard…NO!

 

“15 bucks little man.”

-David Schultz


*All images/video clips are rights of their respective owners. Links to external sites are used solely for informational purposes.

Superman #349

Originally published November 15th 2017

                                                                   

Superman, the world's greatest superhero. Without Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster's creation all of us may have lived crummy lives. Other powered beings have appeared in literature throughout the ages but Superman was a f'ing rock star. Creating the model which all our costumed heroes we love were formed, I will always tip my hat to the Man of Steel.

Even with the respect I have for the inspiration he's provided, my last crack at a Supes review was less than kind. But hey, in my humble opinion he wasn't portrayed in the best light. If you've read any of my previous work, you would know I'm a sucker for EVERY back issue I can get my grubby fingers on, so the Last Son of Krypton and I were bound to cross paths again here in Two Staple Gold.

This issue caught my eye for more than just the fact some guy dressed up like Wonder Woman looks to be giving Supes a terrible case of constipation. I also have a lot of admiration for the writer Marty Pasko and renowned artist Curt Swan. Apologies to both creators as I poke a little fun at Superman #349 "The Turnabout Trap" cover dated July, 1980 published by DC Comics.


                                                        



Returning from an interstellar adventure that "took longer than expected" our hero is bent out of shape for potentially being late for work. No time for a shower or morning coffee when you fear Perry White will tear you a new one. After swooping through an open window at the Daily Planet and changing into his alter ego Clark Kent he prepares to face his angry boss. Instead of finding a perturbed Perry he discovers they decided to change the plumbing while he was away.

 

"Clark picked the wrong day to try Peyote."

Everyone's genders have been switched. On the plus side, Jimmy Olsen...err...I mean Jenny Olsen sure can rock a neckerchief like nobody's business. Utterly stunned, Clark needs some fresh air. On his way out of the building various theories enter his mind. A practical joke perhaps or maybe Red Kryptonite is to blame for what he's witnessing. As he exits, a window washer falls from her perch and is saved by...Superwoman?! Clark has a hunch and uses his super vision to look towards the Justice League Satellite. There his suspicions are confirmed, all of his friends have been affected by gender swapping.

 

"Black Condor? Nice try but on this world he goes by Captain Nair."

Now believing he is trapped in an alternate dimension, Superman attempts to fly into space and search for a gateway. Instead he's met by an impenetrable dome surrounding the Earth. He takes a crack at it to no avail and as history has proven, If Supes can't punch his way out of a problem, magic must be involved. With his smash tactics foiled he chooses to return to the bizarre world he's trapped in and investigate his doppelganger "Clara Kent" who must also be Superwoman.

 

"You better believe Human Resources is gonna hear about this one!"

But wait! Back at the Daily Planet, while stalking Clara from a windowsill, Superwoman flies by him. How can this be? He remarks how odd all of this is but what I find more disturbing are his Peeping Tom tactics. Whotta creep. Done with all this pondering rubbish, Supes wants the straight dope directly from the horse's mouth. Bad call Big Blue. Fearing he's a villain, Superwoman and Superboy ring his bell. Slapping a helmet filled with Kryptonite gas over his head, he's now their prisoner. Super sucky.

 

"Groovy! We finally found a use for our spare SUPER Bong!"

Fearing Superman would gain access to their secrets if kept in the Watchtower, The Turnabout Justice League stake him to the ground in the Mojave Desert. He is left under the watchful eye of Wonder Warrior. This leads to my favorite part of the book by far. In all of Supes old adventures, a myriad of  powers would emerge relevant to any predicament he found himself in. This is no exception but easily one I didn't expect. When talking about odd abilities of comic heroes with your friends, feel free to pull this one out of the arsenal...the dude can A Capella Lullaby your ass to sleep!

 

 "Wonder Warrior is a sucker for a set of smooth pipes."

Superman lures buzzards over and they break his helmet with their beaks. Now free, he has a quick scuffle with Wonder Warrior, pummels him and steals his Lasso of Truth. That time on the hot sand provided him just the clarity he needed. Certain of who has been the mastermind behind his misery but alas, the culprit isn't easily found. How to get the mystery miscreant's attention? Scrawl on a billboard with a giant crayon. Damn, and they say you learn nothing in Kindergarten.

 
"Ok, That's officially SUPER STUPID and I'm not entirely sure it's a crayon."

There's only one Imp in the DCU capable of creating that kind of itch in Superman's britches, Mr.Mxyzptlk! How did Supes put it all together? Super Intuition? Nah, Mr.Mxyzptlk doesn't know about his secret identity. With every other human experiencing the gender bending, Clara Kent and Superwoman were two different people. Fine deduction skills there Clarky boy. Those who consider Batman "The World's Greatest Detective" can bite my bippy. Only one question remains. Why is Mxyz out to crap on the Man of Steel's Wheaties?

   

"I'm pleased to know Catfishing didn't originate on our planet."

A year prior in Superman #335, Mxyz was exiled from his dimension and Supes helped him return in time to marry his fiancee Miss Bgbznz. But you see, Mr.Mxyzptlk is one shallow little hombre. When it's revealed his sweet gal is actually a gaaah, he takes it out on the Blue Boy Scout. Before he can make a mad dash with his crooked derby hat, Superman snares him with the Lasso of Truth he scooped up earlier. Forced to obey, Mr.Mxyzptlk says his name backwards and is returned to ZRFFF. Everything returns to normal...or does it?

 

"Silly Lois, Clark's only worried he was going to have to feign interest in Theatre."

The Verdict:
Silly, fun and whimsical. All these words can be used to describe what I've just read and quite frankly, I love that. It it the most memorable tale ever told? Hell no, but unlike my review it's  classic kid friendly entertainment.

Dark and gritty comics are cool. I enjoy them as much as the next fan but every once in a while a jovial romp is just what the Doctor ordered. Provides some chuckles and the nostalgia tank gets refilled. Punch your ticket to Happy Town and rescue a copy of Superman #349 from the bins. It's Two Staple Gold.

No molds broken nor minds blown, this is clean entertainment and deserves to be owned. That'll be $2 for the parting rhyme. I accept cash, credit or a pair of Black Condors shorts. Tell ya what, bring the skivvies and I'll throw in a Turnabout League fan casting for free.

                                                            



-David Schultz




*All images/video clips are rights of their respective owners. Links to external sites are used solely for informational purposes.

Flash #163

Originally published November 1st 2017


                                                                        

"I like weird and wacky!" No, this isn't a code word to get into the fetish club downtown. Ahem... I think. Rather, It's a statement that tends to be uttered at least once by every fan of the Silver Age. It's also remarkably true. The majority of stories published between '56-'70 had to flirt with the bizarre. Some just had a dance, others brought it home to meet the folks but either way it was a glorious era to be absurd.

If you've ever read any of my previous work, it's fairly obvious I'm a huge fan. Not my utmost favorite age (that would be Bronze) yet who can resist all of those whimsical plot threads and colorful creativity?

Barry Allen actually kicked off this period in the pages of Showcase #4 and despite his O.G. status, I  haven't read many of his adventures during that epoch. A lot of books cross my desk but the moment I saw this cover urgency struck. I mean c'mon, there he is in his talk to the hand pose insisting that I save his life. Naturally, I cracked it open post haste. The scarlet speedster needs ME! Or did he? Let's take a gander at The Flash #163 " The Flash stakes his life--on--you!" cover dated August 1966. Written by John Broome, penciled by Carmine Infantino with inks from Joe Giella.

                                                       

I may be showing my age here but personally whenever someone proclaims "STOP!", my mind immediately flashes to Estelle Getty rocking a glock. Anyone else recall the 1992 cinematic masterpiece "Stop! or my Mom will Shoot"? The hours I spent as a 14 year old watching this flick filled with phallic follies and stale punchlines. What IS funny though, a Flash cover reminds me how wrong I was to believe Sylvester Stallone turned a corner as a comedic actor. The power of Back Issues at work here people! I digress...

                                               "Yo Ma, whaddya think of MY Meatloaf?"

The villain in this book BLOWS. Pretty bold way to describe a guy but it's no exaggeration. This tale starts with him using a powerful puff to dissipate our hero. See what I did there? You better, I expect my readers to come equipped with a gong to punish me for my pathetic puns.  This scoundrels real accomplishment isn't defeating a Justice Leaguer on the teaser page. It's overcoming his uncanny resemblance to the Iron Sheik and claiming victory by other means than a headlock.

                                                              

"I think Hulk Hogan would prefer the Whistle Tickle finishing move."

The Flash is speeding his way around Central City while on a pier, a little girl accidentally drops her doll into the ocean. No job is too small for the fastest man alive. He zips over water to grab the lost toy. Nice to see Flashy boy isn't above some blue collar rescuing of inanimate objects. The writer notes this small act of kindness will play out later on. Hmm... wishful thinking, the Barbie taking a dip is retconned as the origin of the Anti-Monitor. Bit of a stretch? They say I'm a dreamer.

                                                              

"How many times I've said 'never' after a night of drinking. You got a lot to learn kiddo."

Back to the Iron Sheik lookalike. His name is sure to instill terror into the hearts of men, ready for it? Mr.Haddon! Yeah, more like your 6th grade History teacher than treacherous tyrant. I've got the wrong subject though as it turns out he's quite science enthusiast. So much so, he's created an insane invention. Let's try to wrap our minds around this: According to Haddon, belief in ourselves is based on how others feel about us. So he's developed radiation that will erase a populations memory of a specific person. They forget someone exists and that person will disappear. You really got to have a broken Beaker to come up with that one. This weapon still needs some fine tuning. Witness the saddest first appearance in DC Comics history, Haddon's cat "Jessica". This furry feline only wanted some milk but received oblivion. Someone get Selina Kyle on the horn.

                                                              

"R.I.P. Jessica the Invisible Lab Rat Cat 1966-1966."

Haddon uses the radiation on Central City. Now that no one remembers Barry, he begins to turn into a mist. He tries to run around  and get the attention of someone, but they just think he's a nut job in a funny suit. Reduced to nothing more than second hand smoke, he still believes crime waits for no man..er..ghost thingy. A store alarm rings in the distance and Flash races to the scene to discover Haddon robbing the joint. With bags full of cash in each hand he takes a trick from the Big Bad Wolf Handbook by Huffing, puffing and blowing the Flash around.

                                                              

"What do Marty McFly and the Flash have in common? Great at fucking up timelines."

Guiding Barry's wispy form back to his lab, Haddon lays out his evil plan. With the Flash incapacitated he's free to steal and use the money to move to an island and become it's King. Seriously. Once the final person stops believing in the Flash...poof. Haddon is so confident in himself, he chomps on a congratulatory stogie and leaves Barry in his lair. So if no one can remember the Flash, how is he still alive? Rewind to that nugget on the docks.

   

"Where the hell are this kids parents? Is her Dad the Gorton's Fisherman?"

YES! The little girl with a case of the butter fingers! That's right, she would "never, never, never" forget him for rescuing dolly. The scene itself where he discovers she is the lone believer does play out a tad creepy in a lock down Chuck E. Cheese kind of way. If you find that odd, it doesn't stop there. The Flash still needs to regain full form by refreshing the rest of Central City's memory. In the age before e-mail, my baby...she wrote me a letter.

                                                             

"As bands in the 90's understood, flyers were the ultimate promotional tool."

Just like memes in modern times, people believed everything they read back in the day. Kinkos be damned, Barry just writes a butt load of leaflets and hands them out to people on the street. By golly, it actually works! The more they read, his body is restored. Now at full strength, The Flash is ready to smash the 'Stache.

                                                              

"If I could only have Tom Selleck's lush head of hair, I would be UNSTOPPABLE!"

Haddon is enjoying some Magnum P.I. fashion and Kooey Kooey Kooey servitude in a tropical locale. Heavy is the head that wears the crown  as he can't quite put a finger on how he achieved his success. Screw it, He's still living the dream. King of an island, armed guards and plenty pineapples can't erase the feeling someone is out to get him. Paranoia proves to be prudent if not effective. The Flash promptly busts his party up and puts his shiny melon behind bars.

Was this one a classic? Nope. Not even close. The story proved to be terribly boring. Had the writer opted to embrace the insanity of the time period it may have been saved. Take the Mind Erasing Machine for example. I don't have a problem with it's function being vague but they should have went all out with it. No cool design, colorful beams of light or anything really. Just an old burger warmer from Wendy's.

There's a back up story featuring Abra Kadabra but by this point you can tell the creators had better things to do with their day than care what got published that month. I suppose an argument could be made Infantino's pencil work is the one redeeming quality but we've got a flat liner here. Four color Ambien. The Surgeon General advises against reading this prior to operating machinery.

Thanks for the iconic cover guys but here's to wishing I could wash my brain clean of this one. Maybe watching some T.V. will help with that...oh HELL yes!

                                                             



-David Schultz




*All images/video clips are rights of their respective owners. Links to external sites are used solely for informational purposes.

The Frankenstein Monster #8

Originally published October 14th 2017

                                                                        

Halloween is here! Can't say I'm much of the celebrating type considering my childhood was spent decked out in flammable plastic...and handing out candy to other kids. All dressed up with nowhere to go. Thanks Mom, for making an 8 year old man the door. Don't feel bad. I've more than made up for it over the years by consuming my body weight in miniature Snickers.

                                                                   

 "The sweet smell of nostalgia and noxious plastic fumes."

We're not here to discuss my tragic backstory. That's what hard liquor is for. No dear friends, time to talk comics. With the spirit of this hair raising holiday in mind, I've decided to revisit some Bronze Age Marvel Monsters. Everyone enjoys a good fright right? Publishers recognized the appeal of horror and flooded the market with a myriad of titles dedicated to the macabre. The majority of these issues had an anthology layout while solo books were reserved for the genres movie mainstays. Dracula being the most notable and popular with the fans.

This makes The Monster Frankenstein #8 (cover dated January 1974) pretty interesting to me. First, he's the big brute of scary set but with an over saturated market, the chatter in the crypt was Frankenstein's book neared it's demise. Frank's adventures needed a little life, so Marvel turned to Dracula for a three issue guest appearance. Did it do the trick or was this story more rotten than a Jack o' Lantern in late November? Let's take the lid off of this nefarious narrative by Gary Friedrich and the brilliant John Buscema.

                                                     


As the cover indicates, we start with Frankenstein opening a coffin to reveal Dracula rip roaring and ready to go. For an immortal creature he doesn't bother to waste any time. This leaves Franky boy a tad shocked. One would think Drac might like to use the bathroom after waking up, or perhaps enjoy a good stretch before going into stalk mode. We got ourselves one nimble Nosferatu here!

                                  

"You and me both Pal..."

I gotta admit, it's pretty cool this story hits you with action outta the gate but how did this meeting come to be? Sheer chance? Of course not. Enter Marguerita the Hag. This little old lady lured Frank into her gypsy camp last issue. Filling his belly with food and his heart with high hopes of finding a home, she requests he follows her to a cave. Turns out only he possesses the strength needed to open the coffin that lies within. Here's the rub, Marguerita is in fact a vampire herself eager to see her dark lord again. Be careful what you wish for baby!

                                                              

"Knuckle sandwiches are included with the early bird special."

While all this geriatric grappling is going down, the reader is introduced to Marguerita's beautiful granddaughter, Carmen. Bearing witness to the melee, the girl is horrified to discover her beloved Bubbe is a baddie. Marguerita grabs Carmen violently, turning Frank's eye away from Dracula. He saves the girl from a vampire bite and drives a stake through her matriarch's ticker.

                                                              

"You're the reason for my life...You're the inspiration."

Dracula sees this as prime time to hit the bricks. I mean, c'mon all that stalking makes a guy thirsty.  So off to the nearest town for blood he goes. Meanwhile, Frankenstein and Carmen emerge from the cave to discover the entire gypsy camp, once welcoming to Franky, have been slaughtered. The nearby Townsfolk felt the need to punish them for turning the woods into the Universal Studios Monsters Tour. Now they gone and done it. Not only is Drac on his way to suck 'em dry but Frankenstein is out to avenge his fallen friends.

                                                              

"Nowadays you can just illegally download some Gypsy Jams. Back then, not so much."

Let's tackle my biggest gripe about this issue. Hell, about Vampire tales in general. Anytime I see the whole change into a bat but keep my face thing, I'm annoyed. Why? Just go full on bat. To add garlic to my gripe, Dracula even keeps his collar here! You may think you're the most stylish flying rat in Transylvania there buddy but next time just rock a leisure suit. The ladies will love it! Well, some maybe. Ok..keep the collar.

                                                              

"Do these wings make my ass look fat?"

Where were we? Ah yes, a fury infused Frankenstein! The denizens of Gypsy Genocideville are aware he is en route. Rather than play sitting duck, the Burgomeister  insists they set out to kill the monstrosity before it arrives. Gotta love the role of Burgomeister. Has there been any other profession portrayed as a bigger dink in realm of fiction? The only other job that may hold a torch is the Hospital Orderly. I challenge you fine reader, to prove me otherwise.

                                                                                "Burgomeisters...cementing a bad rep for over 200 years."

As the Villagers wonder where to start the hunt, Frank's already arrived at the town square. He smashes a wagon and goes on a diatribe about hatred. For a supposed lunkhead, he's fairly spot on about men being the true monsters of the world. Word of advice to Frankenstein though: the Ghandi routine gets lost in translation when you murder everyone within arms reach! Hey, It's the thought that counts...right big guy?

                                                              

"Quit running! I have to see if your nether regions can accommodate a wagon wheel!"

Similar to Trick or Treaters that descend upon the house giving away full size candy bars, the locals manage to swarm on Frank. Someone finally realizes pitch forks are useless and grabs a rifle. Guns are a pretty lousy solution to any problem but I will say this, I'd be willing to get the resulting sound effect tattooed on one of my buttocks.

 

"Look on the bright side, at least scarring isn't an issue!"

Subdued by the bullet, Frank is tied to a post and given the "burn the witch" treatment. This ends with a splash page and is probably my single favorite moment of the book. The beast shows bravado only to seemingly crap his pants and with the odd word balloon placement, the chimney is telling him to die.

 

"Just friggin' great, you bumpkins had to go and burn the last good street pole!" 

Was this the spooky spectacular that reinvigorated my spirit for the season? Not quite. The problem here is the script. It cashes in on every cliche that's been used in genre from the get go. Pacing was good but it's terribly predictable. The art is the strength here as John Buscema makes you feel like you're watching a classic Monster movie.
Worth a read for fans of the subject matter but for the rest of us, It's a pass. Seal it in the Tomb of Tired Tropes and hope no one ever sets it free.


-David Schultz



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