Fatale #11 – Review

By: Ed Brubaker (story), Sean Phillips (art), and Dave Stewart (colors)

The Story:  Flashing back to the 1930s, Jo goes out to the desert to meet a dying pulp writer whose creepy tales are a little too close for comfort.

The Review: Expanding beyond its initial maxi-series format,  Brubaker and Phillips make the absolute most of the done-in-one, making it tell a complete, self-contained story that nonetheless manages to have nice links to the rest of the series.

Much has been made of Fatale‘s Lovecraftian flavours, but this single issue feels by far the most Lovecraftian of all in its story-telling.  Not only does it hint at those lurking, greater evils that lurk just beneath the surface, only ever hinted at, but the pace and atmosphere also mirrors Lovecraft.  Namely, there’s an overarching dread to the comic; you’re always aware that there’s something really, really horrible just out of sight.  There’s one absolutely magical moment in the comic where I was actually afraid to turn the page, distressed at what would be revealed.  That is horror comics at its absolute finest.  It’s the sort of reading that grabs you by the throat and squeezes.

Fatale #8 – Review

By: Ed Brubaker (script), Sean Phillips (art), and Dave Stewart (colors)

The Story: Nick realizes that he met Jo a lot earlier than he thought, Suzy discovers Jo’s secret, and apparently Jo’s enemies are just as enduring and tenacious as she is.

The Review:  Fatale is a very unique Brubaker/Phillips joint.  It’s not only the generic question, with that heavy element of Lovecraftian horror (and boy, we get a heavy dose of that this month) but also the way the narration is structured.  With a lot more issues to work with, Fatale is in many ways a more leisurely read, one that takes its time and sets a very controlled pace.   What keeps this from being decompressed and boring, however, is that this pace allows Brubaker to insert a lot of moving parts, so much so that it can be difficult to keep track of everything if you’re reading the book monthly; it’s a book that really makes you think as it immerses you in its world.

As such, when you get an issue like this that starts making connections, it’s an extremely satisfying experience.  With this story-arc taking place in a different time period from arc prior, it’s really a lot of fun seeing Brubaker make strong connections and links between them.  There’s a strong sense that everything is related and nothing in the comic happens or is present “just cuz.”

Fatale #7 – Review

by Ed Brubaker (writer), Sean Phillips (art), and Dave Stewart (colors)

The Story: Josephine finds herself pulled into Miles’ and Suzy’s world of Hollywood cults and sacrifices, which may be more familiar than she thought.

The Review:  As much as I’ve been loving Fatale, two issues in, and I think this second arc is actually better than the first.  With only one time period to worry about, the series is more coherent and the plot elements easier to keep track of.

And speaking of time periods, Brubaker is knocking his creepy, occult 1970s Hollywood theme out of the park.  Hollywood has never felt seedier.  Brubaker’s use of hard to believe true stories of Hollywood cults and Sean Phillips’ art, which is portrays a world permanently stuck in a dusty, blazing hot sunset filled with desperate characters, Fatale is an immersive read that is truly evocative of the time period and location.  The best way I can describe it is that it feels as though the entire comic, its world and its characters, sweat.  The world is dark, shadowy, and seedy with horrors lurking just below the surface in a manner that is a mix of conspiracy thriller and Lovecraftian horror while characters seem to all have a vice over them, gradually crushing and closing in with every passing page.

Another aspect that, for me, has made this arc stronger is the Miles character.  Miles is very, very reminiscent of the very best characters of Brubaker and Phillips’ Criminal.  Once again, we have a bad guy finding himself doing good things.  The result is a character that is locked in a really compelling grey area, pursuing goals that completely contradict and run contrary to each other.  He’ll help out Jo, while secretly trying to profit from selling out Suzy.  The result is a character that’s in a kind of moral existential crisis – he’s a scoundrel and proudly defines himself as such, and yet he finds himself doing good things again and again, playing the hero and putting his neck out in doing so, doing things that run counter to the scoundrel he is.  So while he shoots up with heroin while plotting his betrayal of Suzy, he finds himself slinking around with Jo in graveyards filled with murderous cultists.  Miles’ narration in these situations is fantastic, as he finds himself unable to explain these contradictions.