Sweet Tooth #24 – Review

By: Jeff Lemire (creator), Jose Villarrubia (colorist)

The Story: Somebody tell me this isn’t death and I’m just trippin’.

The Review: One of the most inadequately written scenes in Flashpoint: The World of Flashpoint #3 involves Traci 13, spear in her gut, internally commenting, “So this is what dying is like.”  The line is effectively sterile, since she never tells us what part of death she’s experiencing.  Not that you can really blame writer Rex Ogle for avoiding the description; as a state of being few of us come back from, death can be rather difficult to write, to say the least.

So rather than talk about it with words, Lemire shows us death through Gus, who in the throes of his draining life journeys through an eerie, very primal landscape, filled with the corpses of his fellow Hybrids.  An animated, skeletal stag serves as a guide, and his few words are thought, not spoken, commanding Gus to see certain things, yet never enlightening him on what he sees.  It all feels like an Aborigine dream vision, in keeping with the title’s naturalistic spiritualism.

A lot of the imagery involves macabre scenes featuring Hybrids in the most wretched, tragic aftermaths of death, perhaps emphasizing the futility of living as one.  The scenes also suggest that Hybrids, despite being the offspring of humans and possessing human features, are still separate from humanity, as Gus sees a hanging grounds filled only with Hybrid remains, swaying from the treetops.  These are clearly visions intended to pain Gus exclusively.

Sweet Tooth #23 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brousseau (letters)

The Story: Gus and co. debate whether or not to leave the Dam for Alaska.

What’s Good:  This is the sort of script that really shows off what a strong, ensemble cast Lemire has put together and ends up being all about the character-work.  It’s hard to believe that not long ago, this was entirely a “man and boy” adventure focused tightly on Jepperd and Gus.  Now we’ve got a whole crew of characters, each of them likable and/or compelling in their own unique ways.  Bobby is probably the cutest character in any comic I’m reading right now, so much so that I hope Lemire starts carrying around Bobby plushies at conventions.   Johnny delivers a slight but never forced or over-the-top comic relief to the group.  Meanwhile, Doctor Singh looks more crazy-eyed and conspiratorial by the month, and that’s certainly the case here.

Meanwhile, on the darker side of things, Lucy grows to be an increasingly tragic, hard-luck figure as her condition worsens.  Even more interesting is Walter Fish, who reaches a new high as far as general creepiness is concerned, despite never really doing anything incriminating.  It’s a wonderful balance that Lemire is striking with the character.  Jepperd is, of course, as strong as ever as well, continually moving around the issue with a constant, barely tethered anger.  I also liked how violently Jepperd reacts when his soft side gets rebuked.  The minute he gets rejected, he instantly closes up behind that anger once again.

So all told, it’s strong character-work all around met with Lemire’s excellent, moody artwork, with fun layouts and little adjustments in line-work whenever a particular panel is meant to reflect a mood or emotion.

Sweet Tooth #22 – Review

By: Jeff Lemire (creator), Jose Villarrubia (colorist)

The Story: “Shoot first, ask later” seems to be the rule of thumb in this world.

The Review: In my review of Fables #104, I mentioned the difficulties in jumping into the middle any series.  So it was with some trepidation I waded into Sweet Tooth, which hasn’t really been around for that long and yet by most accounts has already taken on a rich life of its own.  A couple people warned me the impact of the story would be lost without some familiarity with the ongoing plot.  And so I expected to read the issue and come out completely puzzled.

It’s rather a waste to have all that concern over nothing, as Lemire makes this issue (as I suspect he makes every issue) quite a cinch to hop in with no prior knowledge whatsoever.  While over on Superboy, I frequently noted the occasional blandness he gives the cast, the characters in his own title pop with vibrant personality: tough cynic Jepperd, strong-willed Lucy, antsy Dr. Singh.  The moment they open their mouths, you get a firm grasp on who these people are.

Nowhere does this come through more clearly than in Lucy and Jepperd’s volatile interactions.  Given how obviously tough each of them is (their fatally accurate marksmanship says as much), their relationship can’t be anything but edgy at the best of times, but it speaks volumes when he ventures, “You can’t really be mad at me?”  For a gruff like Jepperd to be sensitive to Lucy’s feelings shows there’s a heart of gold beneath his rugged and scarred exterior.

Lemire also makes it easy to catch on not only to the overall plot (group on the run searching for sanctuary), but the major conflict at hand as well.  This ragtag bunch has clearly been through some harrowing experiences on their journey, so the idea of finding sanctuary that much sooner no doubt poses serious temptations.

But the timing of it all seems a little too perfect to really trust haven-provider Walter’s motives.  Though he insists to Jepperd and Lucy that the woodland rangers are dangerous, to get the duo to shoot the men from behind seems suspiciously hasty, as does persuading the group to come back to his place for the night before they think of investigating the bodies.  In doing so, they miss a vital clue to their quest, as Lemire explicitly points out in the final panel.

Sweet Tooth #18 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters)

The Story: Gus and the gang hit the road to Alaska, readjusting to the outside world.

What’s Good: Jeff Lemire is never afraid of getting experimental with Sweet Tooth’s layouts, and nowhere is this more on display than this month, where the book is in landscape and, at points, narrated like a storybook, with a splash page on top and a page of prose narration below.  But that’s not what’s best about this issue.

What’s best is its emotional resonance.  Take for example the tension between the newly reunited Jepperd and Gus.  Jepperd’s obvious sense of guilt and his clumsy attempts to reconnect are absolutely heartbreaking, regardless of whether he’s done wrong.  There’s something pathetic in his actions this month, using relics in an attempt to rekindle a time long past and regain a friendship with a Gus that no longer exists.  Or is that Gus simply buried?  Either way, it’s really gut-wrenching, eye-watering stuff that is sincere in the utmost.

Gus himself functions incredibly well this month as a kind of moral compass.  His clear sense of right and wrong show a much clearer, more defined character than the impressionable kid from issue 1.  Perhaps he’s idealistic, but he’s steadfast.  Gus shows himself to be a restraining force on the adults, a figure who reminds them of their humanity.

I also really enjoy the group dynamic that the comic has taken on.  In some ways, it reminds me of the Walking Dead: it’s an ensemble in a post-apocalyptic world, with each character having his or her unique characteristics and place in the group.  A special mention also has to go to Bobby, who gets in a couple of really hilarious lines this month.  It was surprising to get that out of Lemire, as Sweet Tooth has never been the comic to go to for laughs.

There’s also a heavy emphasis on the importance of the innocence of childhood this month that was really quite touching.  Seeing all the tension and horror of the series break away, even for a moment, to allow for kids to be kids and friends to be friends was a beautiful sight to see.  Indeed, the final splash of the issue almost made my eyes water.  It was such a display of friendship and goodness and acceptance that it’s hard to put into words.

Sweet Tooth #17 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters)

The Story: As the battle for the militia camp reaches its bloody end, Jepperd learns the truth about his child.

What’s Good: Beneath all the evocative writing, moody visuals, experimental layouts, and grim atmosphere, Sweet Tooth is a damned good story.  It’s issues like this that prove that, showing that Lemire is just as concerned with narrative as he is with creating his world and striking emotional chords.

This is also one of those issues that builds great things for the future.  By the issue’s end, there’s no mistaking the fact that all of our characters are in very different places from where they were at the start of the arc.  Our band finally congeals as a group, and they have a whole new mission on their hands, one that’s very enticing and looks to go back to the “epic journey” trope that Lemire did so well with early on in the series when Gus and Jepperd were questing after the fabled Preserve.  This trek looks to be even more ambitious and I can’t wait to see where this series goes.

Beyond that though, this issue is an electric thrill ride.  The action is amazing, the violence uncompromising, and there are major twists and developments aplenty.  Standing above them all is Jepperd’s discovery of the identity of his child.  There is no way that the child’s identity won’t shock you, as it becomes increasingly clear how subtly Lemire had laid his red herrings.  Of course, the manner in which its all revealed is gut-wrenching in typical Sweet Tooth fashion.  Regardless, it’s an awesome moment for the series, particularly in how it suddenly makes a character so tertiary up to this point so suddenly crucial.

Sweet Tooth #15 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brousseau (letters)

The Story: Jepperd and the hybrid cultists prepare for war, Gus makes good his escape, and Singh and Abbott unearth some secrets about Gus’ family.

What’s Good: This is one hell of an issue and the best issue of Sweet Tooth to come around in a while, and that’s saying a lot.  It perfectly mixes big events/reveals with build-up for future issues that, all told, leaves the series at a fever pitch with more momentum and excitement behind it than ever before.  What has often been a slower, quieter, thoughtful series is suddenly transformed, for the time being, into a rollicking and absolutely riveting thriller of a book.

There’s so much to like about this book.  First and foremost is the change in Gus.  While his childhood innocence is still there, he has emerged as a natural leader.  His relationship to his fellow hybrid escapees is sincere and genuine, but he’s also clearly the one they look to.  Gus almost ends up like a weird, dark kind of Peter Pan, leading a band of isolated children through a strange world filled with murderous adult figures.  It’s up to Gus to call the shots, and, more important, instill hope and comfort to his group and the results are a wonderful read.

The big events, however, relate to what Singh and Abbott dig up at Gus’ old home.  It hints at very interesting things to come for the series but, more than that, it lends the book an almost supernatural, or at least speculative, tone.  During these scenes, and the book’s amazingly written montage conclusion, Singh narrates by reading from Gus’ father’s “bible.”  This bizarre book actually reads like a legitimate holy book, written specifically for Sweet Tooth’s world.  It’s filled with the appropriate metaphors and language, but it carries a very eerie prophetic power.  It leads one to wonder whether there were some powers at work in Gus’ father’s work.  Even if not, this narration, and this bible as a whole, lends the book a very, very ominous and downright chilling tone.  More than that, it makes this issue and the events it builds feel important.  The last few pages will have you starving for the next issue, which is not generally something Lemire has focused on in Sweet Tooth.

Sweet Tooth #11 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters)

The Story: Louise’s death, Jepperd’s imprisonment by the militia, and his ensuing deal with Abbott are recounted.

What’s Good: The trip Lemire has been taking the grizzled, hardened Jeppered on lately has certainly been an interesting one, if only because of how it highlights his vulnerability and consequent deterioration.  That reaches new depths this month and with Lemire having spent so many of Sweet Tooth’s early issues building Jepperd into a tough-as-nails wrecking machine, seeing the guy reduced to such desperation is definitely very effective.

This month, Jepperd is shown at his weakest. He is emotionally destroyed, he is physically trapped, he is reduced to begging, and, for the first time in the series, he is physically beaten to a pulp, fair and square, in a fight we’d expect him to win.  It’s disconcerting stuff and certainly, seeing a guy like Jepperd so completely destroyed in every arena that a human being can be assaulted is just another example of how great Lemire is at writing the traumatic.  Yet, it also makes the last page all the more effective; never before has Jepperd seemed more dangerous and more threatening than now, having come through the flames of such physical and emotional pain.

Much of this issue is spent in the slow, gradual relationship that is forged between Jepperd and his warden, Johnny, who’s a seemingly nice guy.  It’s well written by Lemire; Johnny is the one physically weak presence amidst men like Jepperd and Abbott and is hopelessly stuck between the two of them.  Lemire does well in giving Johnny an affable, vernacular tone that often struggles to deal with the dire subject matter, much like the character himself.

Then there’s Abbott, who Lemire cements as a strong villain after this issue.  Completely cold, weirdly friendly, and always calm, Abbott has a relaxed presence that grows increasingly sinister.  It’s strangely suitable that in a world of hard, intimidating people, the most dangerous guy is also the most unassuming.

Lemire artwork continues to be tremendous for Sweet Tooth.  Backgrounds reflect states of mind and larger panels are perfectly in synch with the book’s emotional tone.  Lemire also makes really cool use of darkness this month in his depiction of Jepperd’s imprisonment.  It shuts down and punctuates the book, much as it shuts down and punctuates the conversations themselves as dialogue ends when the light goes out.  I also continue to enjoy Lemire’s depictions of action, which are always fast, claustrophobic, crushed together, and brutal.

Sweet Tooth #9 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters)

The Story: The curtain is pulled back a little more on Jepperd’s past, while Singh tries to gain Gus’ trust.

What’s Good: Despite its focus on a small number of characters, it’s become clear that Sweet Tooth is quite often about betrayal.  Lemire once again does a great job of depicting this recurring theme.  A betrayal in Jepperd’s past with his wife Louise is oddly related to his betrayal of Gus, and thus trauma links with, and creates, trauma.  When Louise and Jepperd are betrayed this month, it’s bitterly fitting that the worst moment of Jepperd’s life occurs at exactly the same spot as his betrayal of Gus.  With Jepperd’s flashbacks coming to their climax, the past comes just a little closer to the present in very effective fashion.

With its running theme of betrayal, it’s only natural that this month would also focus quite a bit on trust.  It’s elegant writing on Lemire’s part that both Gus and Jepperd’s portions of the issue treat this subject.  Singh attempts to gain Gus’ trust, while in the past, Abbott tries to gain Jepperd and Louise’s.   Of course, typical of Lemire’s deftness and his dark, post-apocalyptic world, both situations pull in opposite directions:  Gus struggles to trust what seems to be an honest man, while Louise and Jepperd willingly place their trust in the hands of bad men.  It’s very effective plotting for Lemire, particularly with all the characters walking difficult routes.

Sweet Tooth #8 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters)

The Story: Gus meets Dr. Singh and has a shocking revelation.  Meanwhile, Jepperd simply tries to forget.

What’s Good: Despite being in a post-apocalyptic future full of horrid people, and despite starring a boy that’s half deer, like most of the past issues of Lemire’s series, this month’s issue of Sweet Tooth feels distinctly human on many levels.  There are so many genuine, strong emotions called forth, here.  All of it feels honest, almost in a “slice of life” kind of way.  None of these emotions carry even the slightest  hint of artifice or construction, despite this being a written text.  For instance, Jepperd’s camp side conversation with Louise is a genuinely funny moment, a brief glimmer of light in a world that is pitch black.  The fact that you’re sure to laugh at Jepperd’s joke only pulls you closer to these two characters, as you too find yourself amused and comforted by Jepperd’s jest despite the unrelenting brutality and nastiness of Sweet Tooth’s world in general.

Or there’s Jepperd’s trauma and the kind of self-flagellation he undergoes.  Lemire’s narration here is brutally simple, enhancing his character’s dire state.  As the character tries to forget, attempting to render himself unconscious in painful fashion, we come into contact with that dark hole that always lurks beneath Lemire’s book, threatening to suck everything down.  More importantly, due to Lemire’s minimalist narration, we truly understand Jepperd and feel his pain.

Meanwhile, Gus’ portion of the issue is no less engaging, as Lemire introduces us to Dr. Singh.  All told, it’s a fantastic juxtaposition between a scientist at the extremes of an adult “ends justify the means” doctrine, and Gus’ Christianity-tinged innocence and “black and white” sense of right and wrong.  The back and forth the two have is intriguing, if only because Gus seems unable to accept, or fully comprehend, Singh’s stance, while Singh can only look at Gus’ ideas as a kind of naive idealism he wishes he could still inhabit.

Of course, a lot of this isn’t laid out in words.  Much of it comes solely from Lemire’s illustrations which, as always, are in perfect sync with his script.  Dr. Singh in particular is fantastically drawn.  Regardless of what the doctor says, his constantly world-weary expression and tired, glassy eyes evidence a man who’s exhausted, someone who’s seen far more horrors than any man should.  Compared to the always wild-eyed Gus, the difference is stark.  Lemire also has some good fun with layouts this month, using creative paneling to mirror the fade in and out of consciousness.

Oh, and did I mention there’s a huge slam-bang revelation at the end of the book?  It’s sure to raise a few eyebrows.

Sweet Tooth #4 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters

The Story: Becky’s secret is revealed, as Gus and Jepperd come face to face with the seedy underbelly of Lemire’s post-apocalyptic world.

What’s Good: Lemire truly takes us into deep waters this month, and what we get is an incredibly disturbing book.  His narrative world has never been more dark, but that darkness now has a very uncomfortable grain of perversion to go along with all the gloom and doom.  That Lemire actually went in this direction is a brave move by him and actually surprised me.  Best of all, hiss theme this month is as tasteful as possible, given the subject matter.  This is not shock for shock’s sake, and it carries not a grain of sensationalism.

Really though, it’s hard not for me to draw similarities between this month’s issue and the Road.  Much like that book/film, Lemire’s work here is so dark, that it causes the reader to grasp at any moment of human kindness.  Because the rest of the issue is so disturbing, when Lemire gives us that one good action, as innocent Gus pushes Jepperd into the role of hero, it feels so satisfying.  It also shows how solid the chemistry is between the two characters: the innocent Gus still carries the ideals the experienced Jepperd has seemingly forgotten.

And that’s another strength of this month’s issue, as it perhaps, more directly than ever, raises the issue of morality that rightfully crops up in any dystopian work.  What still counts as a “good man” in a world that is gone so wrong?  It’s clear that Gus, whether he’s aware of it or not, is attempting to move Jepperd back along the road of redemption, and it’s both fascinating and touching.

That said, even with this glimmer of goodness, Lemire is quick to remind us that the world of Sweet Tooth is still oppressive, always threatening to envelop any hope or kindness that crops up.  Even an act of heroism is, in this world, incredibly brutal and violent in its very nature.  Lemire makes no effort to render Jepperd’s actions glossy, and despite the good intentions, it’s all depicted with an unforgiving, violent, and harsh honesty.  Worse still, once this redemptive moment is complete, the darkness of Lemire’s world is quick to move in and recapture its hold.  Jepperd’s actions may have, in themselves, been good, but the difference they made turns out to be far less than one might expect.

On art, Lemire delivers some absolutely gorgeous outdoor images.  It’s clear that as an artist, he’s generally very well aware of his strengths.  There’s a stunning horse-ride in the rain that best encapsulates Lemire’s sparse, yet emotional style.

What’s Not So Good: With his rougher style, I did feel that Lemire’s artwork isn’t at its best in close, well-lit, indoor surroundings.  It strips him of the barren, outdoor landscape he works so excellently, while drawing attention to his flaws.  Essentially, he’s an utterly unconventional cartoonist being forced to draw a more conventional comic scene, and as a result, the simpler nature of his artwork that usually serves him so well becomes a bit ill-suited.

Conclusion: The best issue since the series debut.  If you’re not reading this, you are really missing out.

Grade: A –

-Alex Evans

Sweet Tooth #2 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer and artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters)

The Story: Gus and his savior, Jepperd hit the road and get to know each other a little, inevitably they run into their first bit of trouble.

What’s Good: Once again, Lemire’s minimalist approach works wonders.  As a new, major character is introduced, we don’t get giant word bubbles of exposition, nor do we get captioned-to-hell flashback sequences.  Instead, the few words we get become all the more important and character-defining, and we end up with a far sparser, moody, and unique book.

This month sees a fascinating juxtaposition that will clearly be the heart of this entire series, as both the hardened Jepperd and the innocent Gus bring the best out of each other.  Perfect foils to one another, they make each other feel more human, while also emphasizing each others’ opposite positions on the innocence-experience spectrum.  Seeing Jepperd from Gus’ perspective makes him look truly terrifying, while Jepperd, whether it’s in offering Gus candy or scaring him into hiding under his bed, brings out the childish innocence that Gus represents.

That said, the relationship also brings out nuances in the characters.  The usage of the “Sweet Tooth” nickname in this issue was a definite highlight, almost used as a bridge to a establish a different relationship between Gus and Jepperd, one that exposes a softer side of the big man.  The nice, fatherly Jepperd is in there, but he’s buried deep.

Lemire’s art meanwhile continues to evoke the darkness of the dystopic, barren environment in which his story takes place.  The use of lighting is superb, giving the book an isolated, campfire feel.  As is the mark of any good artist, Lemire also leaves me with several lasting images:  a gorgeous, pitch-perfect image of Gus and Jepperd on horseback, and an absolutely beautifully plotted action sequence in which Jepperd guns down an attacker.   This sequence is a demonstration of how decompression can be used to good ends, stretching out time and in so doing, making what is a fast and brutal scene feel gorgeous, expansive, and pictoresque.

What’s Not So Good: With this being a more dialogue-heavy issue, it’s become clear that Lemire has a unique way of plotting dialogue that takes some getting used to, and at worse, can be a little annoying.  For Lemire, a conversation leads to a great many small panels on a page, as he rarely has more than one person speak per panel.  He’s usually more content to have the “camera” move back and forth between characters, each panel focusing on the speaker, before the next moves on to focus on the respondent.  This constant back and forth can get a little irritating in its more extended uses.

Lemire also stumbles a bit in his first hand to hand combat sequence.  His ruddy, almost messy linework made some of the smaller action panels a little hard to discriminate at first glance.   It almost feels like too much was going on in too little space.

Conclusion: With a direction now firmly in place, this is looking to be a moody and atmospheric book with the potential to be both rollercoaster and sprawling epic.

Grade: B+

-Alex Evans