Reading Deadenders is watching Brubaker’s development as a writer. At least one hopes he’s developing and learning from the mistakes.

For example, if you’re going to write an ongoing comic book, it’s not a good idea to imply a protagonist’s death (by flashing forward ten years into the future) because why should a reader stick with a book? To find out what happens? Who cares, given Brubaker never spends enough time establishing characters in Deadenders anyway….

And another flash forward lesson? Don’t imply one of your other protagonists, who’s been entirely sympathetic, will grow up to make someone as unhappy as the guy looks at the end of this issue.

Until the flash forward, however, it’s a great issue. Brubaker’s making a lot of daring narrative decisions and they pay off. Too bad he decided to capstone it with the lame finish.

Deadenders often should be great, but just misses.

Brubaker runs into a big problem this issue; I’m a little surprised, because it’s an obvious one.

His backup episode, about one of the characters crushing on a guy, is far more effective than his lead story. The lead story is following a plot, it’s increasing tension, it’s got a decent cliffhanger, but it feels constructed.

Meanwhile the backup moves entirely on its own momentum. Pleece and Case are a lot more creative too, because it’s in a less constrained environment. There’s no agenda.

The lead story is also problematic because it requires Beezer to be both the protagonist and the antagonist. He’ll probably turn out being right about things, if only because it’ll create narrative thrust.

But the backup doesn’t need any artificial boosters.

It’s a good and interesting issue–the lead story is strong, it’s just nowhere near as strong as the backup and compares poorly to it.

Brubaker does a nice move starting out this new arc. He sets the action ahead about a month from the last issue. The reader hears, from the characters, about the time between, but it doesn’t sound like much interesting happens.

So the inciting incident for this arc is Beezer’s pissed off dealer boss finally getting ahold of Beezer and kicking the crap out of him. Fatefully, there’s someone nearby who can help and the story kicks off. Basically, Beezer’s out of it and some older guy is starting to creep on Sophie.

It’s a nice bit of work from Brubaker, Pleece and Case. Subtle, if often violent.

Then there’s a backup with the repo kids. It provides a little Deadenders texture, but it also gives Brubaker space to experiment with narrative form. The experiment isn’t particularly exciting but it is cute and it does have a nice feel about it.

The famous therapy issue. I remember it was a big deal when it came out because Bendis all of a sudden treated Aunt May like a real character and not a pawn to occasionally put in danger.

He does a great job with the issue, especially the back and forth with her and the therapist. It also gives him a chance to hold up Ultimate Spider-Man and look at it from a different angle, to give the reader a chance to feel like the series exists a tad more substantially.

Sadly, Bagley isn’t up for the job. His art’s about as good as usual, but not really. He gets lax on some of the faces and the book is mostly just talking heads and it needs to look great throughout. And he’s rushing.

Still, it’s an excellent concept issue.

But why didn’t May ask about the X-Men shirt?

Bendis opens with a lot of action–resolving the previous issue’s falling out of a plane cliffhanger–but Bagley does a couple double page spreads and it flops. It’s not tense, it’s not exciting. And it seems perfunctory. This issue isn’t about action, it’s about Peter meeting the X-Men.

On those lines, Peter hanging out at the X-Mansion while May freaks out about him sneaking out of school, it works pretty well. Bendis tries to hard on the science talk between the Beast and Professor X, but he does a good job showing Peter vacationing into the world of professional superheroes. Or whatever the Ultimate X-Men are supposed to be.

It’s so enjoyable, in fact, one doesn’t realize Bendis hasn’t really done anything the entire issue until the finish, which has a great cliffhanger.

Bendis is sometimes so good, he makes the reader forget all his tricks.

Bendis redeems himself (for now) with this issue. He turns the X-Girl guest stars into a decent story. Peter’s shocked to discover other superheroes–more famous ones, maybe–admire him. It makes for a good realization. But Bendis also drops him into what’s more of a present day sci-fi adventure. It helps he and Bagley still have Peter half in costume, half out, but when he falls from the X-Plane, it perfectly sums up the character.

He’s half in this super world, half not. It’s so sublime a moment I can’t imagine they intended it.

The rest of the issue is subplot stuff. Gwen might not be suspicious of Peter yet, but it’s hard not to see her suspicious of Mary Jane covering for him. And it’s great to see May interacting with both girls at once.

Bendis really does do better with the non-super stuff.

Thanks a lot, Bendis, I was really liking this issue–even with Geldoff’s eurotrash hair–until it turned out the whole thing’s just a set-up to bring in the X-Men.

Or the X-Girls.

Whatever.

The issue opens with Peter heading over to confront Geldoff, who he’s heard is blowing stuff up. It then turns into Peter (in costume, obviously) trying to understand Geldoff and explain the great power, great responsibility thing. The conversation turns heated a couple times and Bendis handles it. He handles the store robbery Peter adverts as an example of it all.

Then he brings in the X-Girls to save the day and the issue bellyflops. It’s the first time (I can remember) Bendis gets to have Peter talk these issues out and he invalidates it with a lame soft cliffhanger.

It’s still well-written, Bendis’s finale is just infuriatingly hackneyed and cheap.

In some ways, less than nothing happens this issue. Bendis resolves the previous issue’s cliffhanger, but without a Geldoff confrontation. The name’s a Pink Floyd reference, right?

Anyway, Peter, Gwen, Liz and Mary Jane run for it and basically have a talking heads adventure. It’s a comic about nothing and it’s utterly fantastic. Bendis gets to play Gwen and Liz off each other, but also have Gwen orbit around the quieter Peter and Mary Jane interaction. It’s great scene writing from Bendis. Ultimate Spider-Man is like a touching, sincere and often rather well-written sitcom.

Just a serious one.

Like Flash Thompson. Bendis is clearly building up to something big with Flash. At least he’d better be since he’s dragging it out so long.

The issue restores the status quo a little bit, bringing Bendis back into a comfort zone–but even if it’s narratively easy, it’s rewarding reading.

What’s a Geldoff?

Bendis skips Peter’s angst this issue, which still deals with the aftermath of the Venom arc. Instead, he concentrates on the practical. What’s Peter going to do about a costume?

For an Ultimate Spider-Man comic, there’s actually a lot of scenes. There’s stuff at school, stuff with Peter trying to get a costume, stuff at home, then stuff at the party.

But there’s a lot going on in those scenes. Bendis is laying a subplot with Flash, he’s still working through the Mary Jane breakup and he’s got a lot of great friend stuff between Peter and Gwen. She makes for an excellent sidekick.

Bagley runs into a big problem with Mary Jane in her slut gear, though. She’s utterly indistinguishable until it comes up in dialogue. Kind of kills the scene.

As for Geldoff, the car-destroying, longhaired “bad” guy?

I’m holding judgment on him.

I think this issue finishes Deadenders‘s first arc. Brubaker sends it off on a high point, but only because he finishes the issue with a short Archie-style story. The rest of the issue is a mess.

He follows a government scientist who interviews Beezer. Now, nothing happens in the story–we even miss the one interesting moment with the scientist, after a lot of teasing about it–except exposition and backstory.

It’s lazy, convenient writing and it brings nothing to the series. Even Pleece and Case seem to give up. The art, from the second or third page, is boring. Maybe because Brubaker’s still keeping the calamity secret–we do get a couple hints–but more likely because there’s nothing to see here. And only a little more to read.

It’s competent, through and through, but utterly pointless.

A series shouldn’t be having pointless issues only four in.

Brubaker outdoes himself this issue. He achieves a startling moments of emotion, which isn’t easy to do in a comic book, but he does it here. Obviously, Pleece and Case have a lot to do with it… but it’s Brubaker. He brings home a great moment.

That great moment comes after a rather mediocre first two thirds. It’s a very good mediocre–Brubaker’s scenes are well-written and Pleece and Case do a fine job on the art (not great as they’re drawing the nice future city and nice future cities look the same usually)–but it’s mediocre. It’s more of the linear progression of protagonist Beezer and his interchangeable comrades engineering the eventual surprise.

Brubaker does develop subplots, though I hope at least some of them are story texture and not full subplots. Deadenders‘s world feels undercooked at times.

The cliffhanger’s predictable, but it doesn’t matter. Brubaker scores big.

Brubaker works three points of view into this issue. He opens with Beezer’s girlfriend, Sophie, who’s writing in her journal about the issue’s events so she’s supposedly the primary. But Beezer runs off and he’s the protagonist for a while. Then Beezer disappears for a bit and the story shifts to an omnipotent third person.

But Beezer’s really the protagonist, especially given all the flashbacks. Brubaker’s giving the reader information he or she needed last issue… all the fantastical stuff happening to Beezer? It turns out he already knew about it, which changes how those early scenes play.

And once it becomes clear where Brubaker’s going with the plot, the issue runs into some trouble. Sophie’s adventures trying to track down a friend’s drunkard father are a lot more interesting than Beezer’s machinations. They shouldn’t be more engaging… but they are.

Brubaker’s passive writing is better than his active plotting.

Ed Brubaker opens the first Deadenders issue rather predictably. Sure, the details about the future world are a different (a little) from other dystopian future worlds, but there’s nothing glaringly original. Two rich bad guys are talking about the fate of a teenager out in one of the rough sectors.

Then Brubaker moves to the sector and to the protagonist–Beezer–and Deadenders all of a sudden becomes special. Not because any of the details are startling (a lot of it seems heavy influenced by Love and Rockets) but because Brubaker’s writing is exceptionally strong. He gives the characters thoughtful relationships and establishes them immediately. By the end of the first issue, his characters seem fully fleshed out.

The art, from Warren Pleece and Richard Case, gives Brubaker a great setting. Their destroyed future city, sometimes empty, sometimes full, always eeriely quiet, is wonderous. Especially considering it’s the first issue.

Deadenders wows.

I understand The Shark King is based on a Hawaiian fable, but it’s supposed to be an “easy-to-read comic” for kids. I’m a little confused why R. Kikuo Johnson didn’t soften the bigotry of the island people when they discover the lead character is a mutant and also why the dad gets to be such a deadbeat. The dad is the titular Shark King… He deceives a human woman into bearing his child.

The story’s misogynist, but I suppose Johnson tones it down a little. Maybe he just didn’t realize it. Maybe in The Shark King 2 the mother will get her due.

The art’s very nice at the beginning, but Johnson gets lazy once the kid shows up. Shark King becomes goofy at times and the visual impact dissipates.

I’m not sure this comic would do much for kids besides convince them not to read more comics.

It’s a talking heads book and not a bad one at all. First Peter talks to Nick Fury (either Nick lies to him or Ultimate Origins is a retcon),then he talks to Eddie’s roommate, then he talks to Curt Connors.

Peter’s unhappiness and indecision doesn’t make much sense until you remember he’s just a teenager. Bendis takes the issue to drive home that point.

In the finale, in what shouldn’t be a good moment, Peter is calling out to an unseen figure–presumably Venom–offering to help. The naïveté of Peter’s offer at first seems contrived, but it’s Bendis making it clear how–even with Bagley’s somewhat cartoonish art–Peter’s a real kid.

While the issue drags during some of the dialogue and Bagley doesn’t make it visual enough, the ending really sells it. In fact, Bendis’s ending makes the whole Venom arc seem better and far more cohesive.