2000AD Prog 1493 - 21 June 2006
	Judge Dredd (Smith / Fraser) Harry Kipling (Spurrier / Cook) The V.C.s (Abnett / Williams) Red Seas (Edginton / Yeowell) London Fallling (Spurrier / Garbett) Cover: Cliff Robinson

Synopsis by Gavin Hanly
1st opinion by Andrew Howe
2nd opinion by Ryan Hickling

Summaries and reviews contain spoilers for this issue.

Cover Review

AH: If the editorial team wants to sell progs to casual browsers above the age of ten, a cover that references the stories inside is a better bet than a bunch of aliens perusing the comic in question.

Whether this whole “intergalactic editor” trip is still relevant to today’s largely adult readership is a matter for another day (I expect I’d actually miss it if it was gone), but I’m giving a tip of the hat to Cliff Robinson for providing a detailed and colourful response to a concept that deserved less. I’m particularly taken by the expression of drooling lunacy on the sprog in the middle (in fact, the more I look at these guys the more unsettling they become), and I’d suggest a year’s worth of Dredd covers would be welcome compensation for a solid performance in the face of adversity.

RH: I’m lost. In my opinion, wrong type of cover for this comic. The child friendly, family approach should be left to titles such as the Beano or Dandy, definitely not 2000AD, unless of course this was a joke that went way over my head…

Still, the drawing wasn’t too bad and the colours were well within the lines. Still, not my favourite cover this year.

Jumped - Part 3

Orlok strikes from beyond the grave...

Synopsis: Reefer is on the move but being followed by PSU. He gets a call telling him where to bring the hand, and Lola & Moxxy are being held until he does so. The judges pounce after he takes the call. After questioning, Reefer tells Dredd everything and Dredd says they'll wait for the next call.

Meanwhile, the hand has been identified as the hand of Orlok, the Sov assassin - taken rom his corpse once it was returned to New Kremlin (following his execution). Dredd realises that the man who had the hand was about to enter an apartment building before the jumpjacking and he goes to visit their safety deposit vaults. They discover a container marked "extreme biohazard" and identify it as the Red Death filovirus, realising that there could be many more canisters hidden across the city.

Reefer has meanwhile received a call to take a hover cab to a Black Atlantic wind farm. Dredd is concealed next to the engine to prevent him showing up as a heat signature when the cab arrives, and they substitute Orlok's hand too. They head out to the wind farm where the Sovs and more canisters of the Red Death await...

AH: It might be my imagination, but over the last few months Dredd seems to be the place where writers work through their sadistic tendencies. We’ve had a dude who digs country sounds while cutting people’s hearts out, a halfway house for criminals where rehabilitation means losing half your body parts, and a terrorist whose idea of compassion is to shoot a little girl in the gut instead of the face. Kind of puts all that “Dredd’s a facist” stuff into perspective.

Being a guest Dredd scribe is never easy – you can’t make major changes to the Dredd universe, and a couple of thousand previous instalments dooms most attempts at originality to failure – so I’m always prepared to cut Smith, Spurrier, Grant and anyone else brave enough to step up to the plate a little slack. The small-time player who gets in over his head is a tried-and-tested plot device, but watching villainous scumbags get what’s coming to them never gets old, and the ride is diverting enough that naming the Big O as the previous owner of the hand worth killing for seems vaguely unnecessary (any writer who suggests a “Sovs clone Orlok” story will have to be terminated with extreme prejudice, though the notion that he’d make a great Mega City judge has potential).

I could question why Dredd tries to intimidate Reefer with “five to seven” (he hands out sentences like that for littering, not murder), and suggest that in the year 2128 it’s unlikely Florence Nightingale would be the first name on someone’s lips when they’re indulging in a spot of sarcasm (I suppose you might expect it from Devlin Waugh), but that’s just nitpicking for the sake of it. It’s probably good for Smith’s soul to take a break from the brand of epic insanity he conjured up in Leatherjack, and watching Fraser in action brings back pleasant memories of the days when we cared what Nikolai was up to. Slight but enjoyable.

RH: The absurdity of a Judge hiding behind a palm tree has knocked me over to such an extent that standing back up was a challenge. Besides that, I found both the artwork and the script very thrilling, so much so I definitely can’t wait until next weeks installment. The only flaw I would point out is the high improbable ‘accident’ that the jump-jacker just happened to hit an international terrorist organisation. The judges relied on flukes and good luck during Total War, just how much good luck do the bucket-heads get?

Whetting the Whistle - Part 2

Kipling gets deifed...

Synopsis: As the spider god attacks, Kipling continues his story, telling Neesha that to kill a god you have to be one. In the flashback, the blacksmith god casually rips one of Kipling's legs off, throwing it in his cauldron. Whatever was in the cauldron soaked up Kipling's leg and created an liquid, intelligence. In the present day, the liquid has been held together by robotic parts. Because the creature, Klux, believes that Kipling gave him life, he thinks that Kipling is a god - and that belief alone makes him one. Klux also supplies Kipling with replacement body parts and Neesha now asks for a spare hand. She jams it into the God Gun and the combination means she can fire it at the spider god - killing it. Neesha's got the job after all...

AH: Over the last couple of months it’s been difficult to mention Simon Spurrier without using the word “ubiquitous” at least once, and as a result I’ve been evaluating my relationship with his work in greater detail than might otherwise be required. After considering practically everything he’s ever written for the weekly, I’m forced to make the following observation – I have a great deal of respect for his writing ability, but it’s a rare day when I actually enjoy something he’s produced.

Every writer has a signature tune – Rennie values his characters above all else, John Smith gets his kicks from electric prose, and with Spurrier the atmosphere is the thing. His dark humour and affinity for the bizarre is a heady brew, and he unfailingly matches the subject matter to the artist. So why aren’t I smiling?

The answer is simple – when I sit down to read a story or watch a movie, I’m looking for an emotional reaction. It’s no coincidence that my favourite stories from days gone by are the ones that moved me, and that requires an investment in the characters. A quick inventory of Spurrier’s most memorable creations reveals the following: a professional torturer, an undercover judge who thinks raising a raptaur as a pet is fit and proper behaviour for a man who’s supposed to be protecting the innocent, a sex-starved opponent of the occult, and a god-killer whose response to having his leg torn off is to complain about the desecration of his footwear.

When Chopper collapsed metres from the finish line in Song of the Surfer I was in shock for a week. If the Spider Queen tore off Kipling’s head, stuck it on a pole and used it as toilet brush my sole reaction would be relief that I didn’t have to listen to any more of his inane babbling. Now, you could argue I’m judging a comedic effort as if it was high drama, and you’d be right, but since we’ve already established I don’t draw my yucks from the same well (see my review of Bec & Kawl in Prog 1480) there’s little joy in pursuing that avenue of inquiry either.

Which brings us back to my original statement – Harry Kipling is a well-written and atmospheric series that deserves an extended run, and anything which offers the opportunity to revel in Boo Cook’s artwork should never be ignored (“the colours, the beautiful colours …”). I just don’t hear the music, so I guess we’ll file it under “personal preference” and leave it at that.

RH: A somewhat anti-climatic ending. “You can’t kill him.” “Yes I can” “no you can’t” “watch” (killing ensues) “oh…guess you can”. Now, call me as you please, but with often great script and art to boot, I was expecting something a little more exciting than a weak explanation for the Kipling’s god killing powers before some fancy schmancy ultra violence. Still, nice artwork, and not the worst strip in the prog, that title is saved for…

The Hollow Land - Part 3

A bad influence...

Synopsis: Jack and his crew take to the skies again in search of the Empress. Erebus talks to himself on the trip - seemingly knowing that something bad is going to happen on the journey. Alex and his father discuss the mission during which his father says he has grave suspicions about the place. The creatures and the Stenonychsaurs and Ma'hars in particular do not seem to be natural creations and he fears something is behind their creation.

They spot two Ma'har men o war closing on them and they lead them on a chase. Suddenly, Erebus starts howling, followed by the rest of the crew as a piercing shriek - the Moon Song - sends them to their knees. on one of the other ships, Isabella relishes in Jack's upcoming demise...

AH: I finally tuned into Edginton’s wavelength during the last run of The Red Seas, with my conversion to the cause assisted by the effort he put into building his characters during the downtime. The Hollow Land shelves the intimacy for action, and as such there’s not much point in penning an in-depth analysis. An extended sky-chase, lashings of boy’s-own banter, Steve Yeowell exhibiting his usual admirable sense of scale - it’s no better or worse than the similar runarounds we’ve witnessed since the series’ inception, but I’m hoping that won’t be the best I can say about it when it’s all said and done.

In my review of Prog 1467 I suggested this story is only beginning to tap its true potential. When the smoke clears I fully expect Jack to be down at least one crewmember (I’ll give you even odds on Jim or his old man), and combining that previously absent element of dramatic tension with additional character development could see Edginton knocking at the door of classic status within a year. I’m willing to give him as much time as he needs to bring his vision to fruition, and if that means I have to write a few more reviews with nothing much to say then it’s a small price to pay.

RH: More exciting than the last arc, still unimpressive to my eyes. For some reason this has been one strip I'm unable to enjoy. Could be the poor artwork, dire script or simply the fact pirates are the only heroes of the sea. Still, with this week’s prog’s limited action and seemingly rushed artwork I’m afraid I’m more biased towards dislike I’m afraid. Still, there’s always chance for improvement.

Part 8 - Gone to ground

Ryx's last stand...

Synopsis: The VCs prepare for the attack of the Naxon mercenaries, hiding out on the jungles of 51 Tambouri. Hoff and Keege are to protect Gae'krr while the others hold the mercenaries off. Tycho takes out one of the mercs while Ryx comes under attack by two more. He kills them both but receives what looks like a fatal shot in the meantime. Kali, meanwhile, Ambushes another of the mercs, killing him. But their leader survives and runs her through with a spear...

AH: This is another story that won me over via some much-needed character development late in the game, and the one important element that was still conspicuous by its absence - a conduit for reader identification - has been remedied by the introduction of Hoff (I wouldn’t hit the ground running if I shipped out for an intergalactic war either). Why Abnett’s decided to wrap it up when he’s finally hitting his stride is anybody’s guess, but it practically guarantees he’ll go out on a high.

Abnett’s willingness to dispose of his creations has provided the weekly with some of its most memorable moments over the last 6 years (see Durham Red, Atavar and Sancho Panzer for examples of what I’m talking about. And maybe even the last Sin/Dex instalment.) This episode of The V.C.’s is little more than a battle sequence, but it’s an entirely different experience to The Red Seas because I honestly believe every character is in mortal danger. Ryx’s reaction to taking a hit is suitably affecting (points will be deducted if it’s only a flesh wound), I don’t have high hopes for Kali making it through the next prog, and Smith had better be doing something more useful than communing with the ghost of Loon. Let’s just hope Abnett realises that failing to space out the slaughter can dampen the impact (otherwise known as the Bad Company syndrome).

I expressed my feelings about Anthony Williams’s contribution in my review of Prog 1435, but I’m pleased to report that pages 2, 3 and 4 are possibly the best things he’s ever done (the look on Smith’s face at the bottom of page 2 perfectly captures the suppressed rage that comes from laying one too many comrades to rest). He’s still having trouble with Kali, however, with the masculine features and unnatural stances on page 5 diminishing the impact of the final panel.

Abnett commits a few crimes in the dialogue department (“Lick my blitz!” is definitely something Ryx would say, which doesn’t make it any less ludicrous), but he atones for his sins by making me love Hoff even more (“What do we do now, Mister Keege”?) None of which really matters, because I honestly can’t wait to read to read the next instalment, and with Abnett’s impeccable track record I can’t believe he’s going to renege on the deal when it comes to scripting an apocalyptic conclusion. It’s stirring stuff, and if Dan doesn’t make a liar of me it’ll be a genuine contender for one of the year’s best.

RH: Always enjoy a taste of VC’s, with its fast paced action and no nonsense approach to extreme mass violence. And of course, the excitement hit hard this week with several of our favourite star troopers becoming injured on the battlefield, something we don’t see too much from our heroic fighters. If this is truly the last arc, (and god I hope it’s not) then I’m dying to see which of our troopers dies. The only flaw I find with the VC’s violence is that it sometimes seems tacked on in an attempt to cover somewhat empty storylines. Still, let’s hope the VC’s keep on the fight.

Remembering the old days...

In the present day, Shuck is angry that the people have forgotten their monsters and swears to make them remember. Jack leaves the cafe as he sees Tommy Rawhead outside, another monster who helped Jack on the same night that Shuck ripped apart the knight. Tommy warns him to look after his family, which sends Jack into a rage.

He goes back inside where Shuck says they are going to "wake up the worm".

AH: Over the last couple of months it’s been difficult to mention … ah, wait, I’ve already said that. So, lessee now – atmospheric story that’s a perfect match for the artist, an inspired layout (the transitions between present and past on pages 2 and 5 are exceptional), twisted sense of humour, and a cast of characters that wouldn’t last long if someone put a rifle in my hands (though time will tell if I need to include Jack on the hit-list). Yep, it’s all present and accounted for, but I’ll admit to being more than a little intrigued about what Spurrier plans to do with the concept.

Writing a story that actively repels any attempt to identify with the characters is a brave move (which is probably why almost nobody does it), but imaginative plotting can occasionally carry the day. Since I still don’t know what the hell’s going on I’ll reserve my judgement, but I’ll certainly take the opportunity to praise Lee Garrett’s artwork. When you’re chopping off a newsreader’s head and killing the Queen, gothic is definitely good.

RH: London, which is Britain’s only city according to most of today’s media, has once again been chosen by the forces of evil for there evil shenanigans. If, for a second, those of you who are bitter at the fact most BBC influenced media seems to centre around one city and one city only (and believe me I’m one of you) are able to ignore these horrible truths, you have here a rather good story on your hands. The dark, unreal artwork helps add to the atmosphere in the most skilful way. It actually sets the tone. Whether frenzied violence or monatomic family life, the feel is always there.

The script is exciting, but I can only handle so much cockney accent before comics get thrown against wall and beer cans are opened. Still, exciting strip, definitely one of my latest favourites, just not a patch on Ten Seconders (again, set in London - this is becoming a problem).