Holy Terror

Batman The Fixer and Catwoman a hot cat burglar are fighting slash fucking on a rooftop in Gotham Empire City when an Al-Qaeda suicide bomber explodes all over the place and sets into motion a tremendously knuckleheaded chain of events. Even more knuckleheaded that one time Batman gratuitously napalmed a gang of thugs in All Star Batman & Robin.

Diplomacy, Frank Miller style. The most disappointing thing about Holy Terror is that those involved didn't stick with their guns and keep this a Batman project. The best way to read Holy Terror is just to pretend that it is Batman. It certainly looks like Batman. And sounds like (Frank Miller) Batman. Miller obviously doesn't keep any Tipp-Ex in his office, because Jim Gordon retains his signature moustache and glasses. He actually looks more like Gary Oldman in this than Commissioner Gordon in the official Batman Begins adaptation book. To re-iterate though, it's not Commissioner Gordon. It's not Batman either. Nor Catwoman, nor Gotham, honest.

Terrorists blow up Empire City, prompting The Fixer to wreak bloody revenge. Apparently Al-Quaeda have decided to take the whole city by force, which saves The Fixer from having to actually go anywhere. Because all Muslims are apparently terrorists, the final fight takes place in Empire City's oldest Mosque ("the Saudis spent a fortune on this place") which is also the terrorists' hiding place. But of course it is.

Anyone who reads modern Frank Miller will have been acutely aware of how Holy Terror was going to turn out. It does not disappoint. This is not the Frank Miller of Batman: Year One or The Dark Knight Returns, Daredevil or even Sin City. This is xenophobic Frank Miller, propagandist. Except propaganda is supposed to make your own country look good, and Holy Terror makes America look stupider than ever. This isn't Captain America punching Hitler on the jaw. This is someone claiming that you can solve all of the world's problems by shooting them. Or "postmodern diplomacy," as he calls it.

The art though, is good. It depends on how much to one's tastes Frank Miller's art is (and the art in Holy Terror is very Frank Miller-y) but it's vibrant, thrilling and expressive. Some of it isn't very clear, but there's that old Frank Miller inventiveness we've all come to know and love. The attack and its immediate aftermath is the best section of the book, before it has a chance to become all angry and self-righteous. Miller really gets across the sense of shock, terror, disbelief and confusion. The stark, black & white imagery is great, reminiscent of his work on Sin City.

Even the script shows occasional flashes of wit. A terrorist comes at The Fixer and shouts "Jihad!" Fixer grunts "gesundheit" and kicks him off a building. It's a cheap laugh, but I did laugh. The rest of it, sadly, reads like a Frank Miller parody. One could argue Holy Terror as a work of self-parody or winking irony (and the only way to enjoy it is ironically) but mostly it's just not-Batman going around shooting terrorists and blowing up Mosques whilst a complete lack of sympathetic Muslim characters proliferates. The word 'Islamophobia' is bandied around quite a lot on these Internets nowadays, but in the case of Holy Terror, it's apt.

Holy Terror is not for the easily offended nor for the discerning comic book fan. If you can take it with a pinch of salt and a disappointed shake of the head, there's some fun to be had.

Saturday Morning Comix: Mirror Mirror & Locked Out

Two digital comics from the independent publishers at DarkBrain today. The comics over at DarkBrain are designed for a mature audience, so I'd advise discretion when downloading the links. The Beano this ain't. In fact, I haven't seen this much shagging and nudity in a comic book since I flicked through that paperback of Lost Girls in Borders that one time.

Locked Out: Eye Opener is a 35-page one shot which tells the story of Emily. One day, poor Emily finds she's lost complete contol of her own body and all of its functions. Controlled by what seems to be an alien force (Lovecraftian tentacles FTW), she's forced into a series of steamy and quite explicit encounters. Locked Out reads like Species on (more) heat, 2000AD's Future Shocks on viagra, or HP Lovecraft in a spectacularly horny mood.

It's a fun enough concept, even if it does read like a thin excuse to show lots of sex, boobs and penis. But that's okay: I like sex, boobs and penis. The art, whilst not to my taste, does a good enough job with the sexytimes and occasional bursts of violence and gore. It features the most disturbing depiction of a flaccid penis I've ever seen and plenty of squirmsome tentacle-to-eyeball trauma. This Cronenberg-esque use of body horror works well, and is perhaps Locked Out's strongest point.

As an introduction to DarkBrain comics, Locked Out certainly is a bit of an Eye Opener. On this evidence, I'd be very interested in seeing what else they have to offer. Talking of which:

Mirror Mirror is a five issue arc and, in contrast, seems a little more considered and plot-orientated. It's a story of demonic curses and dominatrixes. I like demonic curses and I like dominatrixes, so I found Mirror Mirror an engaging read. Bitch boss Brenna lives a double-life in more than one way. By day, she works at an office making her employees' life hell. By night, she plays dominatrix and enjoys a little literal ball-busting and making men cry. She's also cursed by her demonic one-time sister Mirriam (you see what they did there) to lose everything and everyone she loves. It's a lengthy story full of blackmail, betrayal and boobies.

Brenna, by the way, is modelled on adult star Tabitha Stevens. Stevens provides the comic's foreword, and even voices the character for the online version at the website.

The artwork is well suited to the story, delivering us page upon page of gorgeous women, hunky men, pert breasts and girthsome lovelengths. Still, it's not going to be for everyone, and I would stress the comic's 'mature readers' label. As with Locked Out, Miriam is promised further adventures. I'd certainly be interested in seeing where DarkBrain's Dark Brain can take her story next. If you like your comic book horror with a bit of added steam, I'd thoroughly recommend you check out DarkBrain. Just, um, not while you're at work.

Locked Out: Eye Opener -

Mirror Mirror: Forgiveness -

Nemesis

The most Mark Millar-iest comic since he killed half of the Ultimate Universe, Nemesis essentially asks the question "what if Batman was the Joker?" or, even more aptly, "what if Batman was a total cunt?" That second question must have been asked by someone who's never read All-Star Batman & Robin.

Or heard of Christian Bale.

The eponymous Nemesis is a rich supervillain who has dedicated his life to really pissing people off. To labour the DC point, imagine if Batman decided to work against Commissioner Gordon rather than with him. Nemesis travels around the world blowing stuff up and besting the best of the best authorities he finds there. After destroying half of Tokyo and killing its top cop, he heads away to Washington DC, kidnaps the President and informs Chief Inspector Blake Morrow that's he's next for the cut. All in a day's work for the world's only supervillain.

I first came across Nemesis in the UK publication Clint, a sort-of lads'-mag-come-comic-book-compilation that collects several strips and hurr-hurr, looks a bit like Cunt on the magazine shelves. Which is a good indicator of Nemesis' levels of maturity*. It's easily the most immature of Millar's work since Wanted, and some of his angriest too. Not that this is entirely a bad thing. It's incredibly fun watching Nemesis doing his stuff, and comes loaded with a finale that doesn't disappoint. The art by Steve McNiven is handsome enough, and looks stunning in Clint's A4 format. There are pages upon pages of explosive action, gory bullet ballet and bone-breaking kung-fu. There's at least one big set-piece per issue.

Approach with caution. Lovers of subtlety will not enjoy Nemesis. Your mother won't even allow it in the house. Provided that you're a fan of misanthropy and ultraviolence, Nemesis is a joy. It's like a mix of Garth Ennis' Punisher/The Boys crossed with Frank Miller at his most macho. The script is redundant in most cases, relegated only to explaining the plot. It feels less like a comic book at times than it does a screenplay in waiting. Which, funnily enough, is how Kick-Ass 2 (also published in Clint) is starting to seem.

Talking of which, Nemesis has recently been optioned for a movie. Supposedly to be directed by Tony Scott and due to star Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt, I'll believe that when I see it (and see it I will). Unfortunately, I seriously doubt that some of the comic's harsher stuff will remain intact. And dare I say it, Michael Bay would probably suit the comic's style better than Tony Scott.

And I think we all know who should play this See-You-Next-Tuesday Batman...

But I love Nemesis, in spite because of its more boneheaded moves. The action is amongst the best I've seen in years. Morrow makes for as likeable a hero as Nemesis is loathsome, leading to a great payoff. Needless to say, the comic sets itself up for a sequel.

Whilst I don't think one would be particularly neccessary, consider me thoroughly on board.

* And a good indicator of my own. I have every issue so far.

Jingle Bells, Batman Smells (like shitty kids' cologne)

What do you wager The Goddamn Batman smells like? My first guess would have been sweat, energy drinks and shark-repellent Bat spray. Turns out I'm wrong, if his Dark Knight eau de toilette (probably French for toilet water) is anything to go by. It's little wonder that Rachel Dawes wanted fuck all to do with him in The Dark Knight, since his choice of personal fragrance leaves much to be desired. If this is the sort of shit that Wayne Enterprises is putting out now, well I'm not surprised Dark Knight's biggest competitors are Eau De Fear Gas and Eau De Smilex. I found Dark Knight in this shop, packaged inbetween some Incredible Hulk bath towels and a Scooby Doo cologne:

Literally anything for 99p. This is truly the golden age of consumerism

The 99p Store(s). For ninety nine pennies you can own a squirty toilette spray with a comic book/cartoon character on it. Also of interest - 18 condoms, Indiana Jones colouring books, rusks, a cup of pick n' mix, cup a' soup, microwaveable burgers, crappy STD DVDs, even crappier softcore porn, shaving razors, tennis rackets for your Nintendo Wii, energy drinks, batteries, chewing gum, chapsticks and even tampons. With as little as £10, a man can feel like a billionaire in the 99p Store(s). Anyway, as both a massive nerd and a fan of smelling nice, you can imagine my delight at finding Dark Knight. I think this exact panel from The Widening Gyre went through my mind:

Yes, you too can stink like shitty Kevin Smith dialogue.

She is really saying that Batman gave her eleven orgasms. And yes, my mind assumed that wearing Dark Knight would give me the ability to satisfy women too. It doesn't exactly say that, but he bumf on the packaging reads that Dark Knight smells "like fruit" and contains cinnamon and water. Can't say I'd pictured Batman smelling at all fruity or of cinnamon and water, but hey, maybe that's why all the ladies like him. I was also a little disappointed by the lack of a real glass bottle inside. There's just a little plastic squirty bottle with a picture of Batman on it. Still, ever the optimist, I gave it a go.

Also vomit inducing: my face. Sorry about that

At first, Dark Knight is pleasantly sweet and fruity. Not at all bad. A bit like water and cinnamon. And then it kicks in and it is all bad and it doesn't let up. Dark Knight smells like sweet piss. Dark Knight made me smell like a paedophile. It made my shirt smell so bad that I had to walk around for 3 hours in -2 temperature wearing a t-shirt. Dark Knight smells - well, like you'd imagine how Chris O' Donnell's Robin might have smelled, or, at a push, like Adam West's boudoir. Dark Knight is Joel Schumacher's favourite cologne. Grant Morrisson was probably definitely high on the fumes of Dark Knight when he wrote Batman RIP and that time travel thing that I don't understand. It makes even less sense that they put the Christian Bale iteration of Batman on the bottle. If Christian Bale smelled like that shit, nobody would take him seriously, sound man or otherwise. Dark Knight is literally the second-worst thing I have ever stunk of. Just behind that one time in a nightclub when I vomited all over myself. It's not even suitable for children. If my child wore Dark Knight, I'd lock him in a fucking shed. Because I'm not done thinking up punchlines yet: Dark Knight makes comic book fanboys smell worse than they already do.

The true origin of The Joker: dropped into a vat of that shit.

If you really hate yourself, the Ozone layer and those around you that much, you can find Dark Knight in a 99p Store near you. Or on ebay. Or a post-Christmas dustbin.

Someone, I think, is telling porkies. No prize for spotting the lie in the below headline:

Actually, yes, there is a prize: a bottle of Dark Knight Eau De Toilette. Because I certainly don't want mine. Anyway, in summary, Dark Knight stinks. It stinks not just literally, but also figuratively and meta-figuratively (no, I'm not sure if that's a thing either). Good luck with giving anyone eleven orgasms whilst wearing that arsewash. I can't even get my cat to come near me, let alone a bloody Catwoman.

Twilight: The graphic novel

[Moody-arse horror 'critic' probably-unfairly rags on popular culture item Part 3]

Saying that I don't hate Twilight the graphic novel as much as I hate Twilight the book or Twilight the movies is a bit like saying I hate breaking my arm slightly less than I hate breaking my leg. And to wit, I hate breaking my bones in general just as much as I hate the Twilight phenomenon as a whole. Start again, shall I? This paragraph is making no sense.

Twilight: The Graphic Novel will make your brain rot until it forgets how to read, write or distinguish between good and shit. I suppose it's only apt that Meyer's novels be adapted into graphic novels, since it's an entirely visual story. 90% of the book's prose consists of elaborate descriptions of Edward or Jacob (the other 10%: bad plotting and ridiculous things). The words in a Twilight book/movie/comic are as unimportant as the script of a porno. It's all wank-fodder anyway, so why bother?

Volume 1 collects the first Twilight book in picture-and-speech-bubbles form. The art, by Manga illustrator Young Kim isn't actually as bad as one might expect. It even does a better job of portraying the characters' love story than either the novel or the movie. It speaks volumes for her talents that Edward and Mary-Sue are far less annoying here than they've ever been. And you can even sort-of sense a little bit of an emotional undercurrent to things. Poor Pattinson and Stewart, outclassed by a pair of cartoons. It's not quite to my tastes, but I've seen worse artwork in a comic book. Unfortunately, it is still based on Meyer's prose and plot, so there's not a great deal Kim can do to save things. And that story and dialogue is as dull, lifeless and uneventful as ever.

Sparkling still looks stupid when rendered in comic-book form, and the dialogue is still atrocious. Furthermore, it has perhaps the worst speech-bubble placement I've ever seen in a comic book. The bubbles look as if they've been lazily photoshopped on as an afterthought and quite often sit slap-bang in the centre of a character's face. They couldn't even be fucked to draw on the lashes properly. A more literal example of Meyer's dialogue ruining her work.

Twilight: The Graphic Novel is obviously and consistently terrible, but not really in the same league as anything else of the brand. It's merely tolerable, which I suppose is an improvement.

Less terrible than you thought it was: THE MASK

A little lecture in comic book history for youse all today. Unless you're a semi-virginal hermit Geek Lord like myself, the only incarnation of The Mask you're likely to know of is that 1994 Jim Carrey piece in which he acts like a Looney Toons character and pulls Cameron Diaz. The 'real' Mask (or 'bighead', as the comics call him) is a hardcore mamalover with an affinity for OTT violence, gruesome revenges and explosives.

A list of all-time cinematic disappointments: Aliens vs Predator, Judge Dredd, the Futurama movies, and the new Texas Chainsaw Massacres. Up there with the best of them is The Mask. Yes, the one with Jim Carrey and very especially Son of the Mask. Superpowered babies are all fine and well, but I want bazookas and mean-spirited anarchic violence. With a side order of tartan trousers, if you please.

The (real) Mask is an outstanding, highly underrated little comic book in which loser Stanley Ipkiss (not even remotely resembling Jim Carrey) finds a mystical mask and sets about performing bloody revenge upon anyone who's ever wronged him. Think of it as an an evil My Name is Earl with a magic mask, bazookas and invulnerability. This Mask also conjures up a Tommy Gun outta machine guns. But where Jim Carrey wasted the bastard thing, The Real Mask blows everyone to shit with it. The Real Mask wastes a precinct full of cops and very violently murders anyone who gets in his way. Like Wanted or Kick-Ass, it's a large dose of wish fulfillment fantasy for those unsatisfied with their lot in life. The comics are highly immature and probably quite irresponsible, but just too damn fun not to enjoy.

As an idiot child, I loved The Mask movie. I collected the action figures and tie-in comics and even hunted down the TV series on VHS. Classic escapism. Then, aged probably 13ish, I happened across my father's own comic book collection. After I'd done with about 20 years' worth of back issues, I started on the more underground stuff. Amongst it, The Mask. I was captivated.

In his further adventures, The Real Mask would go head-to-head with Lobo and Batman. He'd become a Dirty Harry-esque vigilante, a mafia don and a woman. Pah, the most edgy thing Jim Carrey thing did in the movie? Well, he stuck his tongue out a lot and accidentally robbed a bank. It's your classic case of a concept being utterly wasted in the name of mass appeal. Sure it might not have made as much money, but a true interpretation of The Mask could've been a cult classic. My dreams had it directed by Sam Raimi (think Darkman) with maybe Bill Murray as Ipkiss and Michael Keaton as Lt. Kellaway. I may never get to see that movie, but at least I'll always have my retarded imagination.

There's an argument that the movie is actually a quite literal adaptation of the source material. After all, The Mask isn't so much a character itself - it merely accentuates an individual's worst qualities and gives them a few superpowers to play with. So one could argue that in the case of Jim Carrey and Jamie fucking Kennedy, the host bodies were just a pair of childlike losers. That is, they didn't have the personality for violence and nastiness. It's a good theory, but who really needs to see Carrey and Kennedy gurning like idiots again? They have their own inane little franchises for that (Ace Ventura and The Jamie Kennedy Experiment) whereas there's only one The Mask. I doubt we'll ever see a decent adaptation of the comics now.

If you've not read them all ready, I'd highly recommend the Dark Horse omnibus editions which collect the best Mask stories. Arcudi's writing is fun, angry and sharp; Doug Mahnke's artwork is an ever-improving thing of grotesque beauty. Unlike that unremarkable movie and its terrible sequel, The Mask books reward revisiting again and again.

Freddy's Dead: a comic book adaptation.

The very worst of the NOES movies (to date) becomes the very worst NOES comic in Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare, a comic book adaptation that's truly terrible even by those already terrible standards. I'd like to say that this is the worst comic book adaptation I've ever read - but then, I own Jason Goes to Hell too - and nothing can beat that particular turd. The best comic book adaptation of a movie, incidentally, is Northstar Comics' Leatherface. Unlike most, the team couldn't give a fuck about the movie and just basically make up their own last half. It's demented, poetically scripted, disgustingly violent and just plain beautiful. Stop reading this review, and go hunt down Leatherface instead.

Freddy's Dead is completely faithful to the movie's plot, which is perhaps the comic's biggest mistake. Everything is as you remember it, only depicted via the medium of terrible artwork. The characters look weird and half-finished; the colours are garish and completely unsuited to the subject matter. Admittedly, movie Freddy was hardly scary himself by this point, but his comic book self is even worse - all primary colours and no menace whatsoever. Like the movie, the final issue is presented partly in 3D. And it's done just as badly as everything else so far. As soon as it switches to 3D, all the colour is drained out and the whole thing is illustrated in blue-and-white. Freddy's 'final' death is not only still shit, but now completely drained of colour. Little wonder he was pissed when he came back in New Nightmare.

"Fucking ebay. The seller didn't even send the 3D glasses. Look, I had to buy my own. Fucking ebay. They should have pictures of Freddy Krueger on the side, but I had to buy stupid fucking white ones that don't even match the comic I'm reading. Fucking ebay."

Because the medium has changed, everything that was good about the movie has been completely stripped out. The lack of Robert Englund's performance strips the story of its soul, and the cameos from Alice Cooper and Johnny Depp are gone. The kill scenes are ruined - with decent, scary artwork, they might have come into their own - and all that remains are the considerable faults of the source material.

Innovation Comics filed for bankruptcy shortly after the publication of Freddy's Dead, which goes to show that even in the 90s', people still had a modicum of taste. Life ain't all bad though - for some decent Kreuger comics, seek out some Wildstorm work ('Copycat' is particularly good), or Freddy vs Jason vs Ash. If you have any respect for your eyes, you won't bother looking for Freddy's Dead, since it really, really isn't worth your money.

Ichi the Killer (manga review)

Well, this started off as an intro to a review of Uzumaki (for the Final Girl Film Club) and then I went and realised how much I bloody love Ichi the Killer. There were a good few years when I was quite obsessed with our weeping friend Ichi. The movie itself was easy enough to track down – and I even saw the prequel and Anime DVDs - but the Manga was something of a holy grail for me. And then, whilst doing a little Uzumaki research, I went and found a bunch of Ichi books online. Thank the Jebus for free Manga websites. (I don’t normally supply naughty streaming websites and suchlike, but since translated Ichi books aren’t easily available, here: knock yaself out).

Takashi Miike’s Ichi the Killer is infamous amongst lovers of extreme cinema. Even the cut version (the only one available here in the UK) is pretty nasty stuff. It’s deliriously perverse and cruel, filled with as much intense, sexualised violence as one might expect from a Miike movie. But with works such as this – particularly where an auteur like Miike is involved – it’s easy to forget its inspiration. And in Ichi's case, Hideo Yamamoto's Manga deserves every bit as much credit as Miike’s seminal adaptation. Maybe even a little more credit on the nastiness front, simply because it has this:

Yes, that's a picture of exactly what you think it's a picture of.

The plot is largely the same as in the movie, although it’s obvious that Miike has excised a lot of excess baggage. The titular Ichi is an assassin for a mysterious short-ass gangster figure. He keeps razor blades in his shoes, and cries a lot. After Ichi rids the world of a rival mob boss, sadomasochistic loon Kakihara is sicced on Ichi. It takes a while to get going, but anyone who reads Manga will know that they like to drag things out a fair bit. It’s also more melodramatic than the movie version, with a lot of forlorn expressions, forelorn wanking and doleful sulking going on. And, if you’ve experienced the movie first, then you’ll probably be quite impatient waiting for Kakihara to arrive. When he shows up, things instantly improve. Ultimate masochist Kakihara is possibly my favourite movie villain of all time, and he’s just as good in comic-book form (although he looks slightly less rockstar-ish, in his conservative black suit & Hitler haircut. The glasgow smile's still there though, as are the piercings and a few extra, um, bits...)

It’s a fun little read, even if it does meander a bit much. The game of cat-and-mouse between Ichi and Kakihara is the movie and the manga’s strongest point, but eleven-odd books is taking it a bit far. It goes up to where the movie finishes, and then there’s a whole bunch of extra chapters on top of that. Miike streamlines the book, which is very much a good thing. It takes one character ten (and counting) pages to fall off a building. It takes so long for him to fall that a line of dialogue even reads “falling”.

With the movie, Miike has kept all the good stuff and got rid of much of the filler, making it more cinematic and streamlined. While Ichi throwing his shoes at a nekkid Kakihara is amusing in the books, it hardly makes for thrilling cinema. All the elements are there, but Mister Miike has amped things up by several notches and got rid of a number of pointless dialogue scenes. Still intact: every bit of gruesome violence you remember from the flick, and then some.

All in all, the Manga version of Ichi the Killer is well worth a read, especially if you're a fan of the movie. The story remains compelling and cool, whilst the characters are plenty grotesque, fun, cool and - certainly in Kakihara's case - genuinely iconic. I'm not really a fan of Manga, but Ichi the Killer is still one of my favourite comics of all time. A must read, if you can stomach all the penile mutilation and whatnot.

The Punisher: Welcome to the Bayou

Punisher MAX comics are usually gory, violent and stupid enough to warrant inclusion in the Review Hole, but Welcome to the Bayou is even more so than usual. Basically, it’s The Punisher meets Deliverance. And yes, that is every bit as beautiful as it sounds.

Frank Castle (the Punisher) is travelling the Louisiana back roads. With a gang-banger all tied up in his trunk, all is well with the world. And then he stops off in Deliverance country for gas. While in the gas station, he notices a group of drunken teenagers being eyed up by the locals. Before you can say “headcheese”, the kids are kidnapped and tied up as alligator bait/rape fodder/dinner. Being the Punisher, Castle gets himself involved. The rest of the story unfolds like a Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel. Only with added Punisher.

Following the disappointing Girls in White Dresses (good buildup – terrible waste of a good villain), Welcome to the Bayou is a great return to form for the MAX line. It’s the first time reading a Punisher arc that I didn’t miss Garth Ennis. All respect to the Ennis meister, but I don’t think this is a story he’d be particularly interested in telling. It’s a fun, gory little ditty by crime author Victor Gischler, and you certainly don’t need to have done any previous reading to enjoy it. There’s no continuity to it, and the story plays out like the most entertaining of Badass vs Cannibal Hicks movies.

The bad guys here are the Geautreaux family. They’re all paper thin character archetypes (the gorgeous loon, the demented hillbilly cousins, the muscular nutter, the demented, masked child-like crazy bloke) but that’s no bad thing in this case. The joy of it is in seeing the Punisher tear them to bits. As anyone with even a passing knowledge of the character will know, Castle specializes in city-dwelling gangster types (and, occasionally, desert-dwelling terrorist types), murdering them all to bits with a huge arsenal of guns. In Welcome to the Bayou, Castle is completely out of his comfort zone. He’s dealing with people even more fucked up than himself or Jigsaw. He’s dealing with people he can’t scare or intimidate. There’s no doubt that he’ll get out alive, but in Bayou, his journey is far weirder than he’s used to. And he has to take on much of it in his underwear.

The book is illustrated by Goran Parlov – himself no stranger to the Punisher MAX line (he also illustrated the Barracuda, Long Cold Dark and Valley Forge, Valley Forge arcs), and his style compliments the tone and the story brilliantly. There have been better Punisher illustrators, but Parlov is unmatched in depicting gory, messy and violent fight scenes; scenes which are aplenty in Welcome to the Bayou.

Maybe a love for both backwoods horror and the Punisher is neccesary if you want to love Welcome to the Bayou as much as I do. And there are a myriad of problems that still can't be ignored. There's a bit in the middle which sees a gang-banger take on narration duties, which is annoying; the baddies are dispatched too quickly; the book's far too short. Hardcore horrorheads might find it a bit predictable - there are more cliches at play here than Haylie Duff's Backwoods. But the brilliance of it all is seeing the Punisher deal with all these cliches; seeing him react to such horror as only the Punisher can.

Batman: Arkham Asylum (videogame review)

Warning: this review contains a seismic amount of fanboy gushing. Those easily sickened would be better off elsewhere. You have been warned.

Holy Batman Begins! It’s a genuinely actually really good videogame starring the Dark Knight! Superman aside, it’s hard to think of a superhero property with a worse reputation where shitty videogame tie-ins are concerned. Not since the Nintendo’s Batman Returns has there been a decent Batman game. DC vs Mortal Kombat made Batboob look good, but that was a team beat em’ up as opposed to a proper Batman game, and he was hidden amongst the JLA anyway, so it wasn’t even his game.

So hopes were high for Rocksteady’s Arkham Asylum. Indeed, this Batfan/gamer hasn’t awaited a computer game so eagerly since last year’s GTA4. £40 is a lot of money to spend on a game… but Arkham Asylum is worth every penny.

The action kicks off with Batman delivering the Joker back to the titular Arkham Asylum after yet another bout of criminal escapades. In a semi-playable cutscene, you follow the Joker through Arkham as the guards take him down to his cell. And then obviously, inevitably, the Clown Prince of Crime breaks free. Soon, to coin a cliché, the inmates are running the asylum. Joker, Harley Quinn, Killer Croc, Bane and numerous others are all out to get you. What’s a Dark Knight to do?

Well, there are two main sides to the gameplay; Splinter Cell/Metal Gear Solid style sneaking about; and an arcade style beat em’ up component, which is both incredibly easy and incredibly fun to use. There’s one button to ‘strike’, one to ‘counter’, and one to ‘stun’ (largely unused, save for the more awkward enemies, who wield knives and electric baton things). While it’s a simplistic system, it works well, and takes practice – simply hammering ‘strike’ or ‘counter’ won’t get you anywhere – it’s all about the timing.

The stealth sections are a lot harder to pull off, but infinitely cool-looking when done right. Since Bats is pretty much powerless against gun-toting enemies, you have to either take them from behind (nudge nudge, wink wink, oh fuck off) or drop down on them with a nicely powerful kick to the face. These bits can be a pain in the ass, but are supremely satisfying when carried out well.

A third aspect to the gameplay has you solving riddles. The Riddler doesn’t properly appear in the game, but is more or less constantly in touch with you throughout, asking you to solve silly little puzzles like “finding Zsasz’s work” and working out whether Tommy Elliot (that’s ‘Hush’, as dedicated Bat-fans will know) ever worked at Arkham. It’s an interesting diversion, and solving the riddles unlocks a number of sharply illustrated character profiles and ‘models’.

The graphics are as good as you could ever want - particularly the character models. You’ll spend ages just circling Batman with the camera; so faithfully and impressively is he captured. Likewise, the voice acting is top notch. Kevin Conroy and Mark Hamill reprise their roles as Batman and the Joker from the Animated Series. It adds further authenticity to the proceedings.

For those of you that think Arkham Asylum has no place on a horror website, think again. Some parts of the game are actually underwear-drenchingy scary. This is one game that really earns its ‘15’ certificate.

What else? Well, there’s the gadgets, the detective vision… the cameos by less famous Arkham residents. There’s an unlockable armoured Batsuit – Arkham Asylum is packed with fanboy Bat-spunk inducing little features. In terms of geek wish-fulfilment, Arkham Asylum beats the recent Ghostbusters into the ground and buries it alongside Jason Todd.

On the flipside of the Bat-coin, there are one or two minor niggles. The plot has a slight tendency to wander into videogame-cliché territory, and the boss battles are pretty generic and uninspired. On a geekier note, I’d have liked to see a much larger range of baddies – I wanted Two-Face damn it!!! But it’s hard to make digs at a game of this quality.

The rating?

Best Batman game. Ever.

Jason vs Leatherface: a true bromance

Because I’m getting impatient waiting for the next instalment of Freddy vs Jason vs Ash: Nightmare Warriors, it’s time to delve back into the longbox in search of a good, gory horror fix.

Unfortunately, Jason vs Leatherface is not particularly good, gory or horrific. The plot is as pedestrian as you could possibly get. A Corporate Bastard dredges up Crystal Lake and, for some unclear reason, ships the water therein out to Texas. Because one Jason Voorhees is chained up at the bottom of the lake, he ends up in Texas too.

Wandering around backwoods Hicksville, Jason happens across (the first Chainsaw Massacre’s) Hitchhiker and Leatherface. There’s a brief, slightly shit scuffle; then Jason and Leatherface connect, assumedly because of their shared retardedness.

And so Jason and Leatherface become playmates. Jason goes back to the Slaughter (more on that later) household for a cute little slasher sleepover. And, at first, things go swimmingly. Jason becomes a temporary member of the Slaughter (*shudders*) family, sharing (but not eating) meals, and helping Hitchhiker and Leatherface make their kills.

But alas & alack, Jason can only stay placid for so long. After a disagreement with Hitchhiker, he tries to kill the annoying little runt. Leatherface steps up to defend his brother, and the two ex-friends finally get down to the main event.

Needless to say, Jason vs Leatherface is non-canonical. There’s a bunch of things writer Nancy Collins got completely wrong; for example, naming Leatherface’s family ‘The Slaughters’. Likewise, Pamela Voorhees is here re-named ‘Doris’, and there’s a silly little domestic violence subplot featured in a flashback. Thankfully, the main characters are captured faithfully enough. They're in pre-remake mode (think Jason from Goes to Hell and original-TCM Leatherface) and are actually surprisingly sympathetic. Aw shucks, their friendship might just be the cutest thing I’ve read since We3. Jason vs Leatherface is the original bromance.

But then, the art is far too colourful and cartoon-like to be effective anyway. It’s a light-hearted story, but Jeff Butler’s perky visuals would be better suited to an issue of The Beano or Dandy. It’s a shame, because Simon Bisley’s cover art is beautiful, and really plays up the comic grotesquerie of the characters. I’d have loved to see the whole comic illustrated by Bisley, and think that it could have really improved the flawed script. As it happens, Butler’s art really enhances the story’s problems, and really lets down the comic for me. (With that in mind, art is subjective; others absolutely love the artwork… if you’re of that mindset, Jason vs Leatherface will be a massively improved read).

And now onto the meat of the review. The big match itself. For a good example of how to do a comic-book crossover well, go read Batman vs Predator or the Batman/Judge Dredd books. Jason vs Leatherface? Not so much. The ‘vs’ aspect lasts a paltry four pages. By no mean coincidence, it’s the best bit in the whole miniseries.

It could be worse, though. Jason vs Leatherface still isn’t the worst Jason comic by far. For that dubious delight, go seek out the three-issue adaptation of Jason Goes to Hell. Then burn the fucker and read something by Wildstorm Comics instead.

2/5 screaming Scream Queens!!

Holy pant-wetting, Batman!! (5 scary Bat-comics)

What with a forthcoming Arkham Asylum videogame review, what better time for a brief look at the scarier moments of the Dark Knight’s career?

5. The Killing Joke (Alan Moore, Brian Bolland) – The Joker paralyses Barbara Gordon (previously Batgirl) and kidnaps her father, driving him near-insane in the process. Alan Moore’s (possible) Joker origins tale delivers horror, laughs and a bloody gripping storyline. A tad overrated, perhaps, but Bolland's art is superb, and the nastier bits are both disturbing and well-done. A genuine classic.

4. Faces (Matt Wagner) – A Two-Face tale with shades of the Todd Browning classic, Freak Show. Faces sees Two-Face attempting to build a “deformity” nation, made up of freaks he’s kidnapped from circus sideshows around Gotham. Truly nasty in places (and kicking off with a nicely grisly murder) Faces is the definitive Two-Face story.

3. Batman: Prey (Doug Moench) – Not a horror tale per-se, but Doug Moench’s tense, gripping story and dark, atmospheric visuals make it a lot more disturbing than it ought to be. Set during the Year One timeframe, Prey sees Bats face off against Dr. Hugo Strange, who sets out destroying him psychologically. Nasty dream sequences and strong violence make this scarier than your average Bat-comic.

2. Batman/Dracula: Red Rain (Doug Moench, Kelley Jones) – No, not the horrible animated series thing. Red Rain sees Batman go up against Dracula himself in a wonderfully Gothic, grisly tale. This spurred on a series of increasingly ridiculous sequels, but the original tale remains undiluted horror.

1. Arkham Asylum (Grant Morrison, Dave McKean) – Thankfully the videogame isn’t a faithful adaptation, or 90% of the gameplay would have consisted of hiding in the dark, kicking wheelchair-bound patients down a flight of stairs…

But yes, Arkham Asylum: a Serious House on Serious Earth is the one Batman comic that this weak-kneed reviewer found genuinely hard to read as a child. Featuring bug-eating, a decapitated head in a dolls’ house and some truly terrifying artwork from Dave McKean, Arkham Asylum sees the inmates take over the asylum. Batman is terrified and, ultimately utterly useless; crying and whimpering his way throughout the story. So by no means the best Batman story, but definitely the scariest.

Dishonourable Mention:

Freddy vs Jason vs Ash: Nightmare Warriors (1 of 6)

Picking up a month after Freddy vs Jason vs Ash left off, the first issue of Nightmare Warriors finds the Chosen One – that’s Evil Dead’s Ash to you – living happily in suburbia with the first book’s survivor. Jason Voorhees is buried at the bottom of a lake, whilst Freddy has presumably buggered back off to the dream world. A group of shady military types find the Necronomicon (which, it is revealed, mama Voorhees used to grant Jason eternal life) and steal it away. This, predictably enough, ends up bringing Jason back to life, whereupon he kills a diver and some soldiers. Once more, Freddy remains in the shadows for now – seemingly content to control Jason from the sidelines; encouraging the retarded mummy’s boy to hunt down and kill Ash. Apparently killing the chosen one will give Jason some superpowers or something.

This being but the first part of a six-issue miniseries, it’s hard to say how Nightmare Warriors will pan out. At a guess, I’d say that Freddy and Jason become a national threat of some sort, and the government will call on Ash to save the day (what with the Necronomicon being taken by military types & an attempt to recruit Ash into some sort of military scheme).

The original writing and illustration team are back… which doesn’t bode amazingly well for Nightmare Warriors’ future readability. The original FvJvA started off well, but by issue six, Craig’s artwork had become distractingly shoddy; often seeming rushed and half-finished. Likewise, Kuhoric’s script ran out of ideas after the second issue, with the story descending into something of an unintelligible mess (with an unforgivable Watchmen rip-off being perhaps the lowest of all low points). And, unfortunately, the first issue of Nightmare Warriors is disappointingly… samey.

With all that said, however, Nightmare Warriors is pleasingly gruesome and comical. In this age of remakes, it’s nice to see Freddy, Jason and Ash in their original incarnations once more, and hell… the concept is still a spunk-inducing dream for fanboy bitches like myself.

Expect the following issues to be reviewed in due course.

4/5 screaming Scream Queens!!!