Dial H #13, by China Mieville (writer), Alberto Ponticelli (penciler), Dan Green (inker), Tanya & Richard Horie (colorists), Taylor Esposito (letterer) - The title of this issue is "Tekel Upharsin". Hey, a reference I recognize! I don't know if it's what Mieville was going for but "Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin" was supposedly a phrase found scribbled all over the walls of Babylon prior to its being conquered by the Persians. It translates to, "You have been weighed and found wanting by the Pharsi (i.e., the Persians)." Thank you Larry Gonick's Cartoon History of the Universe Volume 6!This is largely an exposition issue. Mieville recognizes he's out of time, so if he's going to bring any sort of resolution, he has to lay out what's happening quick as possible. Thus Open-Window Man describes a little about each member of the Dial Bunch, and what the group's goal is, both in the larger sense, and in the immediate sense of why they're in a world of living graffiti. I love that, because it's so odd once you start to think about it. If Open-Window Man and the rest are standing there as their normal selves, looking at this wall and talking to the people on it, where are they in relation to the graffiti people's world? Are they in the equivalent of outer space, or another world? Or simply another dimension? Is it a play on Flatland, the story by Edwin Abbott Abbott about life in a 2-dimensional universe that is periodically visited by a 3-dimensional being? I don't know.
I like what Ponticelli does with it. the way he uses all the different walls to build a Graffiti City, and he makes the child remarkably expressive for being little more than a stick figure. The enthusiasm on the child's face as he decides he understands O-PM's mission is heartwarming, only to be kicked in the teeth by the hero in question's glare. That contrast is very interesting, the fact that Open-Window Man claims not to understand this world. It feels like a conflict between how we like to perceive a hero's motivations and goals, versus what they actually turn out to be. Making Things Better vs. Hurting Bad Guys. But then there's the end of the issue and maybe it's a repudiation of the whole idea of superheroics? No, I don't think that's it, more likely it's about rejecting the idea in comics that tragedy should push people towards that, rather than some other constructive path.
I think Open-Window Man is Miller's Batman (or maybe the jerk everyone started writing because they like Miller's Batman so much). He has a short temper, is impatient, arrogant. he seems largely interested in violence, and has an extremely narrow worldview, incapable of seeing responses to trauma or setback other than "punch crime". Which is strange, for someone who supposedly understands windows and their potential as entryways to other worlds to have such restricted vision. He's too wrapped up in his own pain, ego, and mythology. Which is why the bit where he enters the Graffiti World and tries to adjust is hilarious, if only for how readily it punctures his self-importance.
'Damnit, my thoughts are legible. Think mysteriously. . .'
As I said, it feels like an exposition issue, laying the groundwork so the last two issues can handle the final conflict. But Mieville handles it deftly by weaving all that in with Open-Window Man's attempt to help the kid, and the view it gives us into both characters, so I loved it.
Katana #5, by Ann Nocenti (writer), Alex Sanchez (penciler, pgs 1-15), Cliff Richards (penciler, pgs 16-20), Art Thibert (inker), Matt Yackey (colorist), Taylor Esposito (letterer) - The cover says the guy leaping down towards Katana is Coil, but the sword clearly marks him a Sickle, so who messed up there? The person who lettered it, the person who drew it, the person handing out instructions to both?Practically everyone in here is trying to dissuade Katana in one form or another. The elderly swordsmith - the only one who might be able to fix the Soultaker - thinks her foolish for trying to remove corruption from a centuries old group, and for focusing only on what she wants. The swordsmith's grandson disagrees with Katana's approach to dealing with an unwanted legacy. Sickle thinks her one-woman crusade is futile, and that she's dumb enough to fall for his "white knight" routine. The Creeper still wants to stop the sword being fixed. This new foe, Swagger, wants the sword, either to finish destroying it, or use its power herself. Even Tatsu's dead husband questions her judgment.
There are two ways to look at that. One, this is a test of her resolve. With the whole world telling her she's wrong in one way or the other, can she remain firm in her quest? The other possibility is that when so many people are telling you you're nuts, maybe they're on to something. That can lead to a couple of different results, so I'm curious. The contradictory ass in me wants Katana to going forward and screw all the haters, even as I recognize it's not cool that she wants to fix the sword specifically so it'll bring her dead husband's soul back to her, after he already told her he hated being stuck in that sword. Is it worth it if it confines the Creeper, though?
So Alex Sanchez handles the art chores for the first three-quarters of the book, and it's not really a good thing. When a swordsmith at the convention dies on page 2, it looks like something hit him in the chest, but on the next page, the shuriken appears embedded in the neck (and Tatsu even notes in lodged in the 'spinal nerve'). When Swagger first attacks Katana, the fight concludes with this very nice panel of them fighting amongst a field of cherry blossoms. I wish I could draw a field of trees, grass, and flowers that well. But the actual fighting is confined to a small portion in the dead center of the panel, where you can hardly tell what's going on. The sound effect and dialogue suggest Katana impaled Swagger with a sword, but the art makes it look like she missed. You have to wait for the close up in the next panel to see where the sword hit, and it's not easy to tell there because the focus is more on Swagger sheathing her own swords, and her arm partially obscures the one she's been stabbed with. Sanchez also uses one of those short, wide panels of someone flying right at us, so that their face is very large and the rest of them is almost entirely hidden by their head. I think he's used that at least once in every fight scene so far in the series, and I don't get it because it looks so awkward to attack of defend from. Not to mention the questionable decision to lead with your ahead against people using swords (something I'd think you want to keep away from your head).
Sanchez can draw very nice settings and some good facial expressions at times, but fights are not his forte, and I question the things he chooses to emphasize in panels sometimes.
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