"Comic Book Confessions!" has given us some stunning insights into the comic book industry in recent months, noteworthy among them the facts that old Cursey-Poo has always derived more pleasure from Tick cartoons than Tick comics, and has yet (1999 update: still yet) to read an issue of Transmetropolitan. Now, at the risk of shattering dreams and belief systems everywhere, we bring you our most heart-wrenching gossip nugget to date:
Curse was (pause for dynamic shot of reluctant grimace)... Wrong! Yes, apparently my critical and creative antennae were crumpled on that dark day a few months back, or perhaps I was simply in a pissy mood. Either way, when you toss the old teeth into the soda glass and leave them to rot through the night, the answers all point to the same inescapable truth: Black Panther kicks ass, and Curse was a fool when he reviewed issue one a short time past and gave it a 7.7 out of 10.
Well, the first step is to admit you have a problem and I’m feeling better already and so on, so let’s get to redeeming ourselves, shall we?Never since the brilliantly silly "Great White Hype" have readers like myself had such wonderful reason to be so giddily embarrassed to be white guys, and never since... well, perhaps never have African American readers had such a cool, strong, subtle and fun comic book character to relate to (or at least wish to relate to, ‘cause let’s face it, the man may be a cultural and racial icon of sorts, but who the hell is arrogant enough to relate to Panther’s strength and presence?)
The Lord King of Wakanda and his entourage, along with the make-us-proud white dork Everett K. Ross, make for a damn fun and exciting team to follow, and unlikely enemies such as Mom, Satan and Achebe (aka Bob the Peasant Farmer) keep the story roaring along at the type of admirably lunatic pace of which only Christopher Priest seems capable.Immediately before picking up BP #1 for the second time, I had just finished the newest installment of Kevin Smith’s best comic, Daredevil. Comfortably convinced that I had just read one of the finest issues yet from the undisputed champion of current titles, I settled down into my futon and prepared myself for relative disappointment, my unimpressed dismissal of BP #1 still fresh in my mind. An hour or so later, in the middle of the third or fourth issue, I had to reevaluate my vote. Two weeks later, I have yet to make a firm stand in my own mind on which is the superior of the two uncharacteristically amazing Marvel titles, and yet it is so shocking to me that any book could so suddenly even threaten to overtake my beloved Daredevil that I feel it is inescapable that Black Panther deserves the nod. Whereas I originally felt that the first issue took the Quantum and Woody formula of confident, valid adventure-meets-jaw-achingly hilarious comedy and made it seem like an easy answer, a return to the established successful method of creating, I have since realized that Priest has only improved upon his delicious blending of two story-telling flavors that are often attempted but rarely achieved by most writers (comic book or otherwise.) Priests’s hapless white narrator, lawyer Everett Ross, delivers deadpan and chaotic summaries of the insane adventures he has been witness to/victim of since taking Black Panther/T’Challa on as his newest client, and Panther himself is often relegated to the supporting role of straight guy to the countless eccentric heroes and villains which fill the vividly painted series so comfortably and cleverly: Zuri, the loyal, rambling sidekick of T’Challa , whose strength and skill on any and all battlefields is obscured by his endless napping and ranting; Mephisto, the looming, wicked devil who throughout the series remains surprisingly tolerant and patient (if opportunistic; check out the scene from issue 2 in which Mephisto apparently acquires Everett’s soul in a manner which can only be called dishonest and manipulative, at best...though “damn funny” works, too); even, surprisingly enough, the Dora Milaje, T’Challa’s assistants/bodyguards who, though as ridiculously, shallowly sexy as any comic book heroines, are anything but typically offensive since they are immediately acknowledged and dismissed as over-the-top bimbo warriors in the same kickass manner that the android chicks from Austin Powers were so knowingly exploited and adored.
The painted illustrations of Mark Texeira (and, in issue #5, Vince Evans) are handsome and expressive, easily capable of any and all flavors Priest creates. In my first review, I dismissed the painting as “occasionally sloppy (especially toward the end),” which only confirms that I was too busy struggling to dig the carcass from my ass to give an objective commentary on anything. The illustrations do indeed grow sloppy and hazy toward issue one’s end, but only in a flashback sequence, leading Curse’s more rational personality to conclude that it was evidently an intentional effort on Tex’s part. Something else has to be said while I’m ranting in favor of non-Alex Ross painters, which is simply that, Mark Texeria’s considerable talent aside, guest artist Vince Evans is even better, at least for people like myself, who favor crisp, clean artwork in all but those cases in which smudgier or more chaotic methods lend more atmosphere to similarly distanced and delightfully inaccessible writing (a good example being the grand -yet all-around nasty-- ARKHAM ASYLUM.) I would never be disappointed to see Tex resume visual control of the series, but if Evans feels a need to stick around, I’ll certainly accept that with drool-bathed chin and eyes glazed with joy, as well.Black Panther is a refreshing hero, for, as mentioned earlier, he is one of an indescribably precious and exquisite few African comic characters who doesn’t insult readers of all races with exploitative catch-phrases and dated, racist lingo. Even his uniform is great; it’s haunting and intimidating and, most importantly, it makes sense (he wears it for ritual reasons, which is easier to consume than most “I-kick-ass-so-why-not-wear-spandex” heroes we read about.) Also, he is powerful enough to be thrilling and yet enough of a lost victim to keep us from growing bored with his life. Finally, he is in the care of one of the industry’s greatest artist’s in Christopher Priest. Priest makes bold racial jokes with his characters because he knows that we have all become so fearful and PC that any joke which even hints at racist tendencies is going to give our pathetic asses an adrenaline rush of laughter. Ultimately, he succeeds with offensive dialogue by refusing to take any race seriously (give this book to the most hardened white supremist and you will at least get a chuckle, and yet most African American fans would probably delight at the notion that Priest practically dismisses his own beloved hero as just another “noogie with a cape.”)
Were we to continue, future revelations would surely give us yet greater ratings boosts and viewer acclaim, yet we at Comic Book Confessions! feel that we have accomplished everything we originally strived to achieve, so let it be known that we are closing shop. The readers have beared witness to our final, dizzying revelation: Curse was wrong. Overall Rating: A fat, humbly apologetic 9.3 Out of 10 (As with television pilots, comics usually have as their worst installment their very first, and Black Panther was no exception, though ultimately, the entire series has been more than enjoyable thus far, #1 included.) R.I.Y.L. Tick, Quantum & Woody, Xero. PCP- Offspring’s Pretty Fly For A White Guy (and if the first pop culture parallel that comes to my mind for Black friggin’ Panther relates to the lone white dude in the story, you know I have got to broaden my cultural horizons).“The mighty Ukatana-- fetish god of the fat, the spoiled, and the self-absorbed. T’Chaka must be getting a little chafed from all the 360’s he’s turning in his grave.”
E-mail the reviewerVol. 2, Issue #18
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