The Fairer Sex, Part VI, The Extremist #1

Sadly, not a story based on the Joe Satriani song

In 1992, DC comics launched the Vertigo imprint to handle its more mature themed titles. Even though DC had been publishing adult storylines since the 80’s, the Vertigo imprint solidified their stake in the niche market. Each issue emblazoned with the “Suggested for mature readers” language, Vertigo carried a surprising breadth of titles offering more than just standard superhero fair. It was also home to some astounding, award-winning limited series. Unfortunately none of this praise can be directed at The Extremist limited series.

Written by Peter Milligan and based on a story idea by fellow European Brendan McCarthy with art by Ted McKeever, The Extremist is an uneven book at best. Milligan might be best known for his revamp of X-Force that turned into the parody team X-Statix. McKeever has been all over the place when it comes to offbeat titles for both the majors and several of the independents. Together this threesome cobbles up a story that reads like a soft-core porn novel gone wrong.

Our protagonist for this first issue is Judy, a young hair stylist who has recently lost her husband Jack. By lost, I mean she doesn’t know where he is. Her only clue is that after his disappearance she discovers he was living a double life as The Extremist, a leather-clad vigilante who took orders from a secret society. Judy has become The Extremist in an effort to find Jack’s killer, taking orders from the society’s mouthpiece Patrick. However, the thrill of killing criminals appears to be eroding her sanity.

We begin the issue with an unknown someone listening to Judy’s cassette tape diary of the past few days. It begins with The Extremist confronting a man in a steamy Turkish bathhouse. The man is a killer who murdered two young girls. Prepare yourself, as Mckeever’s art is edgy and stylized. He reminds me a lot of Bill Sienkiewicz blended with Kyle Baker. I don’t have a problem with stylized art. Usually. In this case I do, because of the character design of The Extremist. Take a look at this panel and see if you can guess why:

The mask of The Extremist is suppose to be a giant silver metal ring held in place by three straps. Not a bad design in theory, except when you see it rendered as it looks in about 90% of the panels in this book. Panels like the one above, where it looks like The Extremist is wearing some kind of goofy “smiley face” mask. Which, given the graphically violent and sexual content of this book is completely inappropriate.

Also, it makes me giggle uncontrollably, a factor that has me discounting the entire seriousness of the storyline. The Extremist seems to be shooting for an adult tale of seduction and madness. The story tracks a descent into a world where hidden illuminati play games with peoples lives for their vicarious carnal amusement. And the main character is drawn like Mr. Happy Face.

And you look like an emoticon!

Enough. I’ll try to not let this silly mask sully the rest of The Extremist. Note that this scene comes right after Judy has gutted the killer and is examining her thoughts. It’s hard not to chuckle at that face in scenes such as this one, and most of those other panels are trying very hard to be dark and erotic.

Unfortunately this dark erotic vibe is my next problem with The Extremist. Not with the execution, because Milligan almost succeeds there. More because it plays to the exact stereotyping of women vigilantes everywhere. I hate to come off as some kind of feminist sympathizer, but The Extremist includes every female vigilante cliché taken to such length that you can’t help but start drawing some damning conclusions about how the comic industry portrays heroines.

Take for instant these scenes here, where Judy is changing back into her civilian identity.

First off the thirteen-year-old in me has to say “Two nipples! Score!” Now that he’s out of the way, let’s illuminate problem number one: a female superhero has to in some way sexualize fighting crime. Here it’s blatantly stated that Judy thinks that doing “The Extremist” thing mirrors sexual gratification and even transcends it. The link here is the costume and what it symbolizes. In most cases, the female heroine is made up like a glorified strumpet with the implication that, to her, fighting crime is similar to bedroom gratification. Heroines are often displayed in costumes that amount to little more than sections of the Victoria’s Secret catalog. Some examples of this can be found in the outfits of popular icons like Zatanna, Black Canary, She-Hulk and Vampirella.

Some will no doubt discount this all as playing to the target market, which happened to be young teenage boys at the time most of these characters were minted. In essence, if you want to capture the dollars of a target market with raging hormones, you play to their weakness whenever you can. While I can agree to a certain extent with this business theory, I believe that the answer can cut both ways. It’s both a marketing ploy and a underlying social commentary. It might even be so subtle that those making the books are unaware of the statement. I surely never envision Batman or Spiderman making the types of statements seen here. The same can’t be said of someone like Vampirella or other female characters.

The book plows on ahead showing Judy is rapidly losing control of herself because of her dual identity.

This makes for a great point number two: female characters are often shown as less in control of themselves than their male male counterparts. Jean Grey in the original Phoenix arc is the poster child for “I can’t handle great power.” The Huntress is constantly chided by Batman for going too far when dealing with criminals. Apparently if a female character is given/attains power equal to that of a male, she has to be weakened. The best way to do that is to confirm that she can’t handle the gift while a corresponding male rival can do so with ease.

In Judy’s case, she’s slowly losing her identity and becoming just an extension of The Extremist. Her mission to find out what happened to his husband is becoming less important. It’s right at this time she gets a call from Patrick, who asks her to come over dressed as The Extremist. Judy complies to everything Patrick asks even to the point of not showering before leaving.

While the point of all this is to make Patrick out to be some Svengali who has Judy trapped in his power, this actually brings up point number three about the fairer sex in comics: women are usually shown as subservient to male leadership. While we have seen teams like the Avengers, Justice League and JSA lead by women, most of the time in most books, ladies are content to sit in the back of the bus while men drive. A few exceptions existed, such as Storm taking command of the X-Men in the late ‘80s and Captain Marvel doing the same for the Avengers, but their presence only made the absence of women leaders all the more noticeable.

It isn’t until we meet Patrick that I throw out this last theory. Here he is in all his hedonist glory.

Yes, Patrick acts queerer than a four dollar bill. There’s no way that someone this fey could ever come off as macho and masculine. So much for theory number three. No way it fits this weirdo. Plus who in their right mind lounges around in briefs in the same room as two live black panthers? He’s a kook, although we find out later he’s not a harmless one.

But first, Patrick lets drop another plot point: Jack is dead and Judy is searching for his killer. Patrick seems to know who it is, but is using Judy (willingly, I might add) as The Extremist as his personal assassin. Also as his personal…

The implication to me is that Judy is stuping Patrick, which I find odd since I didn’t think he’d swing that way. Maybe they have sex with the panthers instead? It’s all a mystery that I never, ever want solved. Let’s just leave it at “Patrick and Judy take this Extremist thing way too far.” 

In addition to feeling disgusted, Judy lets a few things drop in her narration the next day: she’s a democrat, she doesn’t like black people very much and again she finds herself more comfortable in the identity of The Extremist than she does being herself. As the story continues she meets with Patrick that evening at a deviant fetish sex club where her inner monologues give away that she is a hair dresser who dyes her hair and that when Jack died in her arms, all she could tell him was “I dye my hair. I dye my hair.” Odd that Jack didn’t unburden his secrets at that point. I guess he was too shocked to find out he married a brunette to explain that he was a leather-clad vigilante working for a secret society and he was having an extra-martial affair. Plus it kind of one-ups her.

A little about our club scene with Patrick is warranted here. As he drones on and on about how an English ancestor of his openly declared in the House of Lords that it was alright for Noblemen to individually subsidize housing and food for pre-pubescent girls in exchange for sexual favors, we are treated to an orgy unlike any I’ve seen in comics. Most is strongly suggested, but it takes no stretch of the imagination to notice women with strap-ons ramming it home while men are licking and humping women on the floor. It’s all too extreme for me! Especially when you juxtapose it with that goofy smile from The Extremist’s mask. (giggles)

A few days later and Judy is out as The Extremist doing extreme things like planting a suicide note on a guy that died while autoerotically hanging himself, when Patrick shows up. And yeah, the puffy pirate shirt look is definitely gay.

Patrick’s little surprise turns out to be a snuff party where everyone pony’s up two grand for the chance to play Russian roulette with a pile of “Saturday night specials”, only one of which is loaded. He informs Judy that he’s already paid her way into the game and that it’s her turn. What a PAL! So under the mental control of this fruit basket, Judy dutifully picks up a gun, but hesitates until Patrick mentions that they are all watching her and she’s suppose to be The Extremist. Geeze Patrick, what’s next? Unprotected sex with HIV-positive lepers? Listening to every Celine Dion album back-to-back?

Guess we’ll never find out now. Patrick biting it can only make my appreciation for the book go up. His annoying effeminate manner will not be missed. Not only that, but his exit looks to have benefited Judy as well, putting her face-to-face with a woman who is possibly Jack’s killer.

 So Judy abandon’s Patrick’s rapidly cooling body to follow this mystery woman home. When she confronts her inside her apartment, the lady admits to not only killing him, but also of doing it because he could no longer sexually satisfy her. Judy thanks her kindly and then leaves. Sorry, just wanted to check and see if you were still listening. Really, Judy stabs her repeatedly till she’s dead. And then feels bad about it and tells her diary the next day while planning on ditching The Extremist outfit and lifestyle.

  

Story over? Right? No, we are not that lucky.

We pick right back up as Judy tries to go back to life as a simple cutter of hair. Scenes like this make me think she’s going to have some issues adjusting.

If she were my hair stylist, no tip! It’s not long before she’s thinking of donning the Extremist outfit again. Not, long? Heck, it’s that same day. After she’s suited up again she receives a mysterious phone call to meet someone in the square. Who could it be?

Aww, crap! I thought we were done with that butt munch. But we aren’t. He faked his own death and then created a new identity for himself. After congratulating Judy on killing Jack’s mistress and murder, Patrick – err, Pierre presents her with an sealed envelope containing a letter to be read in private, then leaves to await her response to it. Judy is confused, but allows him to go.

After reading the letter, she bursts in on Pierre, who appears to be having sex with a couple named Paul and Paula. Judy seems a bit peeved at Pierre, and well she should. The letter apparently explains that Patrick a/k/a Pierre was Jack’s killer all along. The woman Judy killed just wanted to die while inflicting mental anguish on her killer by exposing secrets about her dead husband’s sex life. And people say I have weird hang-ups.

None of this explains why the P-man killed Jack, except that he wanted Judy to be the Extremist all along. Judy is less that forgiving and after smacking Pierre around, looks ready to administer the final stroke.

And that’s where issue one ends, with the audience wishing that both characters would kill each other and put the book out of our misery.

Guide to Werewolves, Part 1: Shadow Reavers #2

A comic so disgustingly gory, it will make you beg to read Demon Hunter again

Black Bull Entertainment was a division of Wizard Entertainment, the publishing company that produces Wizard Magazine. Through Black Bull, Wizard jumped into the world of comic creation in early 2000. Their first miniseries, Gatecrasher, was authored by none other than Kingdom Come’s Mark Waid, fresh off his successful Flash run. In late 2000 it became an ongoing and two other titles were added to the Black Bull stable. One of these was Shadow Reavers. Never has one comic book made me want to take a bath so badly.

The story in Shadow Reavers is a basic good magicians vs bad warlock plot and as usual the fate of the entire world hangs in the balance. Our heroes are Exile, whose power seems to be a bunch knowledge about arcane stuff and how to fight with a spoon (you’ll see), Golem, a resurrected dead body that doesn’t speak but does kick ass, and the witch Helen, with powers that the book only hints at. They are opposing the evil warlock Lord Vigil and his stable of shape-shifting werecreatures / assorted monster, etc. The story so far is that Helen has sent Exile and Golem to protect two sisters who will become powerful witches in the future. How does she know? I’m thinking that “Psychic Friends Network” telephone number. Unfortunately Exile and Golem arrive too late and one of the sisters, Claire, is killed. That leaves the pair protecting her sister Jesse Vala from a horde of nasty werecreatures. 

Warning to anyone reading beyond this point!: you might want to get a towel. Nelson and Dennis Janke are the artists here and they really pour on the blood and guts. Mike Searle and Pat McCallum’s plot serves up plenty of opportunities for them to splash it around too. Get out those rain slickers and the plastic tarp you used when Gallagher was touring.

I’m thinking that if a pack of mutant animal things broke through the  wall of my house and killed my sister, moving to a new place would be a given. Oh, maybe Exile is saying Jesse should get out of the way? Seems so. Great way to open a book, lots of action that quickly moves us into the story. Exile next inquires about where Jesse keeps her formal dinnerware. Either that or he’s really bad a geography.

 

And so it begins. Exile shoves a gravy bowl through one were creature’s skull. If only that were the limit of what the Jankes were willing to show. Also, I’m with Jesse in thinking a shotgun is a much better weapon against beasties than some lame plates and silverware. I’m wrong, but whatever. Jesse wakes enough to guide Exile into the dining room and the “china cabinet”. That’s an ingenious device that is used to store (da-da-DAAN!) CHINA. Hey, they are superheroes not interior decorators. Exile has the Golem work a delaying tactic for him.

So Golem is the undead warrior version of the Energizer Bunny. All this bloodshed is a small prelude of what is to come. Meanwhile Jesse leads Exile to the mysterious “china cabinet” with some wolfmen in hot pursuit. Notice how the Janke’s panel layouts and penciling looks very much like John Byrnes. Anyway, Exile digs in the drawer and he pulls out what he was looking for.

To which everyone’s reaction is:

Not to fear, Exile’s not crazy. These demon werecreatures are like walking power kegs that react to even trace amounts of silver. Thus he’s just found an unbeatable weapon stash. At this point he demonstrates the spoon’s effectiveness for Jesse to see. Note: I’m going to ask that everyone in the reading audience cover themselves against the showers to come.

What a great sound effect! BLORCH! And…uh…what great art? Get ready folks because…

Yes you are Exile, yes you are. You’re about to coat the next four pages in so much blood, guts and goo that you will outdo Warriors of Plasm on the grodiness scale due to the sheer volume of gunk. Hard thing to do, considering WoP is about a whole freaking planet made up of intestines. You will leave it stuck to walls, ceilings, furnishings and people. It will dangle from your lips and get smeared in your eyes. Gore will hang so thick in the air the audience will be able to taste it. It will take an entire army of Merry Maids to undo what’s going to happen. Don’t just take my word for it, see for yourself.

The were-things flee, and as we’ll learn in just a bit they take the body of Jesse’s sister with them. Exile makes a proclamation that I and the rest of the audience can whole-heartedly agree with.

On the disgusting meater (heh!), this one goes to eleven, Exile. I’ve hidden this comic from my wife because I knew it would repulse her so badly that she might torch it before I could finish my review and from my 10 year old from fear it would send him into a state of catatonic shock. I’m pretty hard to gross out, but even my stomach turns when I look at these panels. And the worse part is that the messy goop acts pretty realistic. Note what happens here:

Exile wipes his eyes and it LEAVES A TRAIL OF BLOOD SMEARED ACROSS THEM. Uck! That’s the kind of realism in comics that I don’t need. And I’ve got more bad news: none of these folks is headed for a shower anytime soon.

 

Jesse has an emotional moment, as is completely understandable for someone who’s lost her whole family and is covered in an obscene amount of animal entrails. Exile calms her somewhat and then realizes that the cops are on the way.

 

I’m wondering what kind of shampoo works best on devil guts? The level of detail here is pretty astonishing and…excuse me, I’m going to go vomit.

Ok. I’m back. Just in time for Exile (don’t look at his blood-smeared face) to make the discovery that the were-dudes became part parrot (by eating half of Polly. Don’tthinkaboutit. Don’tthinkaboutit.) and escaped with Claire’s body. Our Shadow Reaver team beats feet out of the house. (Thank God! No more shots of that disgusting battlefield. Just make it through these few panels and we’re out of the proverbial gory, sticky woods.)

Then the cops show up, including one Detective Braxton. Seems Braxton may be on Exile’s trail. Knowing there could be wounded people in the house, Braxton and the beat cop bust in. (Great! Back in the house we go. Maybe it won’t be too bad?) The beat cop finds Jesse’s mother’s room with the door broken in and blood spatters on the walls. (urp.) Braxton, meanwhile, checks out the living room. (Urp! Excuse me. *vomits*)

That’s just completely excessive. I mean really, really excessive. I’d like to comment on how well done these panels are (and the art IS good) but I just can’t. That is like a Fangoria fanboy’s wet dream in there. Oodles and oodles of entrails, hacked off limbs, torsos, half-decayed wolf/human heads litter the entire page. Maybe I’ll be the one burning the book after I’m done with it. 

  

Moving on, we visit the head warlock, Lord Vigil, for a couple-three pages. The bad guy here is so bad that his word balloons are all black and the writing’s white. I’ve noticed that done in other books too and I must say that in the right hands it’s a useful effect. He’s happy to have Claire’s body but sends his wolf-bird back for Jesse. Neat scene and a much needed break from the yuck factor.

 

See, he’s got the bad-ass bald look down and everything. Back to Exile and Golem, who’ve reached Helen’s house with bits of bloody goo hanging off of them. Helen and Exile have a bit of argument over why they didn't leave earlier and save Claire, when a surprising visitor makes an appearance.

Yup, ghostly dead sister comes back for a pep talk, prompting Exile to mutter through bloodly lips that “this time it’s so much worse.” The final five pages belong to another minion of Lord V’s, a human who appears to be guiding some kind of giant creature around that’s killing people. The issue ends showing the things immense shadow on the ground.

Shadow Reavers got up to issue 6 before Wizard rethought the whole comic publishing idea. They bailed out and these three titles were cancelled with no hope of resurrection.

On a side note, this issue wasn’t gory enough for someone at Black Bull. So they added a contest where readers could win a $3,000 mockup of a dead werewolf autopsy. I’ve included one of the four pages of nasty photos in the back. Which all leads to one question, what would you do with a life size werewolf body if you won one? It can’t very well sit on the dining room table. And the money value of it makes it a nasty tax surprise for the winner (assuming they are over 18.) Enjoy while I go mop up the mess I’ve made in the bathroom.

Horror-ible, Part I: Dracula in Hell #2

Scoring an 11 on a 10 scale “What-the-$%#&-o-meter”

I’ve picked this book up many, many times only to return it partially read to its place in the stacks. I always get to about the fourth page and then I’m spent. It’s done what few other books can lay claim to: It’s defeated even me.

For the sake of this review, I’ve forced myself to finish it. It took a superior act of will, an entire case of Pepto-Bismol, the head restraint from A Clockwork Orange and the destruction of at least a year of my sexual libido. This book is harsh, ladies and gentlemen. Don’t let that tame cover fool you into thinking otherwise. I can say without hesitation that it’s just shy of Necronomicon strength. So if you’re reading this now and you are even the slightest bit squeamish, flip over to The Longbox Graveyard and save your soul. Save yourself, I implore you. And yes, that cover says “Adults Only” and boy does it mean it.

Apple Comics has little claim to fame outside of several true-war comic book series and printing a few issues of Elfquest when running WaRP Graphics became too much of a burden for the Pini’s. So we can’t really blame them for trying to capitalize on a public domain horror icon to bring in some sales numbers. It’s odd that they put so much stake in only one icon, however. I’ll try to swerve away from the comparison of putting all your apples in one basket, but how else could we describe the depth and breadth of Dracula products they produced at this time. Their title list included The Bat, Blood of Dracula, Big Bad Blood of Dracula, Blood of the Innocent (Dracula vs. Jack the Ripper), the aforementioned Dracula in Hell and Death Dreams of Dracula. The strangest title out of all this had to be the collected issues of Blood of Dracula numbers 14-19, reprinted as…well, see for yourself:

We all knew terrorism sucked, but this book apparently takes it way beyond the logical extremes.

Back to our book at hand. We can blame writer Richard Adamson and artist Neil Vokes for completely taking this property into regions of Hell best left uncharted. What do I mean by that? *sigh* I’m going to show you.

A giant penis is walking through Hell when suddenly…

“I’m a giant penis,

tall and strong.

I use my great big nads

to roll along.”

You thought I was joking about this one, didn’t you? Bet you feel pretty foolish now. Sorry if those images make you double-take. It’s a very common reaction, I assure you.

The giant penis just happens to be Dracula, the iconic vampire, who has been sentenced to Hell for his crimes. Apparently Satan has decided to punish Drac by trapping him in the form of walking, talking male genitalia. Perfectly logical to me. I pretty much expect the same thing has happened to Hitler, Stalin and the guy that invented Barney the talking dinosaur.

Drac, however, is having a pretty bad time adjusting. And who wouldn’t. I mean, imagine having balls but no way to itch them. Yeah, that’s Hell for ya! Satan also keeps appearing to torment our famous vamp, which would be bad enough. But this book finds a way to make it even worse.

SATAN’S PENIS (yup, never thought I’d see those words in this column) grows the face of a dead Winnebago Indian squaw who proceeds to read Dracula the riot act. Damn. I’m having a hard time describing the comic at this point. Look at my first sentence again and tell me why that might be.

After drubbing our favorite vamp for a panel or so, the devil’s dick transports poor, giant Dracula-penis to a wooded fairy glen. A fantasy setting that comes complete with naked nymphs to tempt the vampire’s resolve. Looks like he ain’t holding out so well either.

I like that sound effect in the last panel as the naked women are rubbing themselves all over that giant roving shaft. “UNNNH!” Exactly! Very realistic sound effects. Whatever the author and artist were smoking, I sure hope it didn’t have any permanent side-effects. Oh, I shouldn’t pity them though. Not when they subject me to what’s yet to come. Ha, I said come. Get it! Eh? Never mind.

And what might be in store for us that’s odder than naked nymphs nuzzling some nads? Just take a look.

Yes, they’ve added some real teeth to this story. Positioned right were these lovelies would normally have a nice bit of snatch. It’s right about this point in reading the book where I keep passing out on the floor. Vagina Dentata are the reason I always use stainless steel condoms. The only disease I have to worry about is rust. I wonder what possessed the makers to believe the story needed any more bite? I mean it’s already got giant phallic vampires in Hell.

 

In our story (yes, there still is one somehow), Dracula breaks free of the nasty nibbling nymphets using the same maneuver I use at the urinal, the ole “triple shake.” Thank God he’s free. Get out of there guy. Hump for it Drac, hump for your life! Sadly he is surrounded again and doesn’t have a chance.

I thought this might be the end of books odd streak, since in the next panel Dracula realizes he can still shape-change into animals. First he becomes a wolf and then sprints off. No more man-sized dorks rolling though the woods. Next he dons the guise of a bat and flies away from the crowds of piranha pussies. I must have been jumping ship too early on my first few tries at the book, right?

 

Well, sort of. Our antagonist Devil guy reappears in the form of a…well a black cloud face with a serpent’s tongue. That’s not the bad part. The bad part is there’s a fat midget guy sitting on the tongue masturbating. Still, I’ll take this sort of stuff over what we’ve dealt with so far.

The tongue riding demon knocks Dracula out of the air by, of all things, spitting on him. Drac plummets to the ground where he reforms as a man once more. With that kind of shape change, the reader might be lulled into believing the rest of the story will be a bit more “normal.” Here’s Dracula all back to being a man again, restoring hope of some normality in the narrative as well.

I don’t know what that Devil is seeing, Dracula doesn’t look tiny to me. In fact he’s got a uncircumcised Ron Jeremy thing going on there. But rejoice reader, since it’s the same writer and artist for the rest of the book this crazy train hasn’t made it to its destination just yet.

Hey! I don’t like were that “bowels” comment is going. Come on guys, I don’t think I can take any more bizarre stuff.

OMG! Now it’s a giant wave of semen. *huddles in corner while holding self and rocking* I think the worst part about this panel is all the lines radiating from the top of the wave make it appear that the semen is actually ANGRY. There’s nothing like a tidal wave of mad sperm chasing you. Not that that’s actually happened to me or anything. But a guy hears “stories,” you know.

 

To escape the wave of volcano spooge, Dracula CONTROLS THE WEATHER. Not exactly a power I remember him having in his many incarnations over the years. Become a mist, sure. Actual weather control? Not so much. Even so, it works out to be the LEAST strange thing that’s going on in this book. And proving that the tour of wacky town isn’t over yet, the creative team recasts Dracula as a shackled tot.

Or not.

Or maybe? I’m not sure anymore. This “in Hell” stuff is confusing the heck out of me. I guess tempting occupants is what Hell is all about. What’s it is not about is baby self-mutilation.

 

Well ok, at least MY version of Hell doesn’t include baby self-mutilation. Drac gets the idea that his hands are still under his control even though they are not attached to his body. So the next logical thing for him to do is of course…

I’m just really flabbergasted at this whole book. And speechless. What can I add to this?

So the handless, headless corpse of baby Dracula scales the naked lactating Earthmother while carrying his still talking head in his bloody stumps. Then the babe’s body hurtles the head at her neck so he can feast on her blood. No comments, that description pretty much covers it. This book does all my work for me.

And lastly the devil reappears to tell Drac that while he’s passed these three tests, many more await him next issue. If we’re lucky, the creative team will be able to pay for their therapy bills before then. 

I’m not sure I will be able to pay for mine.