by writer Simon Spurrier; artists Wilton Santos, Andrea Broccardo, Caspar Wijngaard, Chris Bolson; inkers Marc Deering, Don Ho, Walden Wong, Scott Hanna; colorists Chris O’Halloran & Stéphanie Paitreu; letterer Joe Caramagna collects Doctor Aphra #32-36 volume reviews one | two | three | four | five | six | seven [complete]
Yikes! After a very solid fifth volume, Doctor Aphra’s next arc loses its way. It’s a good thing I’m invested enough in the character to keep going – this kind of mess early on would have lost me as a reader.
Spurrier simply tries to do too much here – among them, revealing Aphra’s childhood, a Rebel plot to assassinate the Emperor, an unexpected reunion with Tolvan, and the Imperial Minister of Propaganda returns (along with a certain favorite Wookie). Instead of a focused narrative, grounded by sharp banter and emotional growth between Aphra and Triple Zero like last time, this arc was scattered and unfocused – and it didn’t help that the art teams changed multiple times within and between issues, with varying levels of quality. Some pages were really quite awful.
In previous volumes, Spurrier has done a fine job pushing Aphra into a corner – usually double crossing left and right – allowing for a lot of growth while the stakes shift and she has to accept the consequences. But the unnecessary amount of exposition and convoluted storyline didn’t allow any emotional beats to land. (Who enjoys exposition of double crosses? No one?) Tolvan and Aphra’s relationship is still unearned, and even cringy, as a certain famous ESB quote undercuts the whole thing. The stakes disappear as soon as we know a plot is already doomed to fail – assassinating the Emperor, in this case – a fault of many other SW titles and a firstfor Aphra.
So what could have saved the book is more growth in Aphra, which has been successful in each volume (even if it’s a turn away from redemption), but there’s a disappointing lack of growth or insight here. Even the final reveal, an easy one to have some emotional resonance or at least serve to deepen Aphra’s relationship with her “tiny ward” Vulaada, fell flat.
I’m looking forward to reading the finale of this series…or I’m more excited to start Alyssa Wong’s new run. Could go either way.
by Rainbow Rowell, Andrés Genolet, Kris Anka, Matt Wilson, Federico Blee, Joe Caramagna, Dee Cunniffe, & Walden Wong collects Runaways #25-31 volumes one | two | three | four | five
This is my 200th review on Reading Art! (✯◡✯)
Rowell’s got some interesting table setting going on in the first four volumes of Runaways. First we’ve got Victor Mancha and his “Victorious” programming (hinted all the way back in OG Runaways volume two), and more recently, Alex Wilder is up to something at the old lair belonging to the Runaways’ deceased evil parents, the Pride.
Only one gets a direct mention at the very end, but these long term developments dovetail nicely with this new arc: on a night of vigilantism, Karolina and Nico meet Doc Justice, “The City of Angels’ most steadfast hope!” Rowell brilliantly connects the Pride as Doc Justice’s nemeses, and he still pursues the crime syndicate they left behind. When the Runaways have to escape from their underground home, Doc Justice takes them in, and convinces them to be superheroes.
It’s a bit strange that only Victor has heard of Doc Justice, when all the kids grew up in LA, or that Doc waited so long to find the Runaways kids – if he’s indeed kept tabs on them, he’d know how talented they are. But it still feels like a plausible connection in the west coast Marvel universe, even though it sucksWest Coast Avengers was cancelled three months before this first issue was published. The mere concept of a Runaways/WCA crossover is too glorious, I’m upset just thinking about it (and Doc Justice would have had a much easier time recruiting Kate and co, as he soon learns).
Rowell still favors the emotional anchor for thrilling action, though we do see some of the Runaways superhero-ing as the new “J-Team.” Gert, the only runaway without powers, is pushed aside, even by Old Lace – which has happened before, and time around feels like it’s retreading old ground (though she also makes a great meta-comment about reincarnated superheroes). A bit more interesting and fresh are Chase’s pained looks leaving his beloved lair, and Nico learning physical combat with her staff, content to not be the leader anymore. Like Nico, I would have liked more reactions and growth from Chase, Karolina and Molly as they adjust to the new superhero life. Victor’s unbridled enthusiasm about redeeming his past nicely ties character development with aforementioned table setting. Of everyone, Molly takes the biggest seat back – but she’s now taller than Nico, and that counts for something. I’m glad they’re showing her age, instead of in perpetual preteen years.
The book pokes quite a bit of fun at decades-old teenage superhero teams, and yet it’s ironic how strange it is to see the Runaways as an actual superhero team. It could work, especially with the pathos of eradicating the syndicate their parents built, but we all know it shouldn’t, at least in the long run. That’s not who the Runaways are. (At least, it’s not who they are yet – we’ll see just how close Rowell sticks to the destiny Vaughan imagined for them.)
Regardless, it’s fitting that our Runaways teens – who were forced into adulthood far too early – have zero interest in the fame or Instagrammable content that comes with fighting crime. They’re not chatting with fans and signing autographs at the end of the day – they’re eating pizza together. The obsession with relevance, ironically, belongs to someone a few generations older.
While character development is uneven (and Doombot is gone, boo!), it still feels like a cohesive group with strong dialogue, and a well-paced story. Everything plays a purpose – Gib’s relentless hunger, the return of Molly’s cat, even the placements and excerpts Rowell chose for the “Stan Forever” pages – but Doc Justice and his assistant Matthew’s roles are more or less predictable. If you try to guess ahead, along with the pretty clear foreshadowing at the end of most of the issues, there’s a good chance you’ll be right. Regardless, the story serves to move Rowell’s bigger plans forward – the two bigger elements I mentioned at the beginning – and I’m still intrigued.
*Spoilers this paragraph.* The one loose end Rowell doesn’t neatly tie up is the reason behind the LADWP started drilling into the Runaways’ home in the first place. I assumed Doc was behind it, to give the Runaways a reason to move in, but we never find out – seems like we will next volume, at least.
Last volume, I was relieved as heck that Andrés Genolet honored and expanded on Kris Anka’s style, I’m not as crazy about his art this time around. It’s just not as consistent, and some scenes (like Nico’s training scene) and character designs (Doc Justice was a bit too Kurt Russell-y) felt unfinished or distracting. But when he hits a good run, man is it good – like Anka, just the right amount of kinetic, fluid expression. There’s a superhero costume scene that mirrors Gert’s fashion change a few volumes back, and it’s becoming a cute recurring visual pattern for the series. Genolet is coming into his own in the series, but I’m sorry, I’ll always prefer Anka, who returned to pencil #27 and it wasn’t nearly enough.
Runaways, while not as magical as Rowell’s first volume, is still at the top of my list when it comes out. I’ve rarely found a reboot with some of my all-time favorite characters that is so consistently engaging, both true to its roots and willing to take risks and develop the story. (Rowell could have rested fully on the original series and gone for mediocre – she’s doing the opposite.) I’m pretty sure Rowell is preparing me for heartbreak, but I’m still all in on the Runaways.
Reading Art 