Ladies and gentlemen of the comicsphere, here’s something I never thought I’d say:
Boy, did I enjoy the latest Rob Liefeld comic.
For the uninitiated (who, in all probability, stopped reading when they saw the word “comicsphere”), Rob Liefeld was once the Golden Boy of mainstream comics. One of the seven superstar artists who broke away from work-for-hire status at Marvel Comics to form the upstart creator-controlled comic company Image, he soon became the bete noire of fanboydom thanks to countless blown deadlines, needlessly picked fights with other creators, comically overmuscled heroes and overendowed heroines, and general slackerhood–quite a fate for a creator who once appeared in one of Spike Lee’s jeans commercials.
Liefeld suddenly found his fortunes resurrected with the intervention of star spandex-set writer Mark Millar, who lent his box-office midas touch and over-the-top salesmanship (and oh yeah, his writing) to Liefeld’s attempt at a full-fledged comeback: Youngblood: Bloodsport. A sequel of sorts to Liefeld’s flagship Image book, Youngblood, it offers the continued adventures of a team of superheroes picked at a young age to become the good-lookin’ fast-talkin’ media darlings of the crimefighting crew.
Since Diamond, the only game in town for mainstream comics distribution, took a pass on handling the comic due to Liefeld’s long string of broken promises, Liefeld himself took on the responsibilities of arranging the distribution of the book. This means the thing’s sorta following the pattern of pre-Jaws/Exorcist/Godfather Hollywood, showing up in certain markets (and at conventions) first and slowly spreading across the retailer landscape. Copies landed at my store of choice this week; having enjoyed Millar’s company and found his Superman: Red Son and Trouble series bearing increasing returns, I decided, despite its not being on my pull list, to give the book a shot.
Golly.
I made sure to grab a copy of the Frank Quitely-drawn cover, which I suppose predisposed me to the comically arrogant doings inside the book, but as a longtime Liefeld basher who didn’t even like Youngblood when he was a 13-year-old, I was unprepared for finding myself so entertained by the book’s contents. Liefeld’s hyperactively overdrawn style has found its ideal counterpart in this, Millar’s most hyperactively over-the-top script yet. (Readers of The Authority and the “Hulk Attacks” issues of The Ultimates know that that’s saying quite a bit indeed.) Here’s a book that starts with an entirely gratuitous coked-up jacuzzi blowjob scene that manages to be completely unpredictable (in a way that’s hugely insulting to fanboydom, might I add), segues into a Tom Savini-esque fight scene between a bow-and-arrow-wielding superhero and the resurrected corpse of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and just gets goofier from there. Included are enough Easter-egg eye-pops to keep devotees of Kingdom Come entertained for hours, one very funny reference to Milligan & Allred’s similarly themed X-Statix, and a big-ass swipe from–how can I put this without spoiling?–a certain series that’s been quite a hot topic amongst the comics blogosphere of late. (I’d wax outraged about how incredibly flagrant this last bit of thievery is, but to the best of my knowledge Akira Kurosawa never complained about Sergio Leone, so nevermind….)
Printed on luxurious stock with lovely colors by Matt Yackey and Kevin Senft, this book is an unexpected delight. Is it great art? Hell, no–and I don’t think Millar nor Liefeld would have it any other way.