The Ultimates 7 (September 2002)

u7.jpg

Maybe they just enlarge Hitch’s artwork. His full page close-up of Captain America, out of uniform, to close the issue is just as lacking in detail as his other Captain America full pages. It’s really awkward. He doesn’t go light on any other character….

This issue’s half terrible and half mediocre. Millar’s treatise on spousal abuse is less insightful than a commercial for a Dr. Phil special and about thirty times more exploitative. I’m sure he patted himself on the back through the whole thing, but it’s really cheap.

The other half of the issue, with the reader finding out Nick Fury’s got a whole other team of Ultimates–the black ops team, who do the important jobs (where were they during the Hulk attacking Manhattan)–is fine enough. It’s silly and forced, but so’s the comic in general.

And wouldn’t the hospital have discovered Janet is a mutant?

CREDITS

Writer, Mark Millar; penciller, Bryan Hitch; inker, Andrew Currie; colorist, Paul Mounts; letterer, Chris Eliopoulos; editors, Brian Smith, C.B. Cebulski and Ralph Macchio; publisher, Marvel Comics.

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One comment

  1. To me, Millar & Hitch have always been the equivalent of going to the bakery and eating a huge chunk of your favorite pastry. Nothing to recommend it as far as what’s good for you, but pretty and sweet, barring no hesitation to wolf it down. Millar’s craft extends as far as it takes him to create a thrilling amusement park ride. Hitch actually has some talent, but often it’s wasted on overblown dramatic visuals that don’t add much to the script. You could take it out even, and just look at the panels, being more interested in their eye candy appeal, not really caring if they work in the storytelling success. I guess what makes Ultimates popular among the masses is that you don’t have to question the motives about why the stories and characters do what they do, or what it adds up to it the end. You just go along for the ride, marveling at it’s sugar coated goodness while you’re mesmerized by it’s hyper fast display of bombast and how quick you can digest it. The sad thing is that after you’re done, there’s not much that’s memorable, no thrill to the discovery of something different or even another layer of knowledge or discovering a different perspective on what you’ve just consumed. Just the hangover buzz afterwards that commands you seek out the next installment so that you can feel that way again, if only for a short while, the memory of what you’ve just experienced getting hazier by the second.

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