Kenya and Pride set a slow burn, while Miami Vice Remix gets to the ’80s action
The allure of Rodolphe and Léo’s Kenya series is essentially twofold. Readers witness a smorgasbord of various genre elements—globe-trotting adventure, alien invasion tale, spy thriller (with added dinosaurs for taste)—mashed together to somehow produce a cogent, compelling tale. And they see Léo draw the aforementioned beasts and creatures in splendid manner. Set in 1947, this third book, Aberrations (Cinebook), sees interested parties from the British, Americans, Russians—in addition to a few fringe fractions—return to the foot of Mount Kenya to continue investigating reports of strange beasts, crafts, and lights in the sky while surreptitiously eyeballing one another. With the vestiges of aliases and pretense cast off, the search to find and secure evidence of the inexplicable occurrences is underway. British agent Kathy Austin is determined to be the one who gets to the bottom of things.
The weakest element of Kenya is the use of flat, dated character tropes that act as conduits for the plot. There’s the smart, plucky British girl. The misogynistic, brawny American explorer. The cultured, sensitive European. The eccentric, effeminate Count. The cold, vengeful Russian. That extends to the dialogue, which is clunky and cringeworthy in parts, as per brash explorer Remington to Kathy: “Usually I don’t care what others think of me… but not this time. I don’t know why. The truth is I’ve never dealt with a woman like you.” And so forth. It’s enough to make you ponder the probability of pastiche, or even satire, but the tropes can’t be blamed on accurate era attitudes. It reads unnaturally and unconvincingly; how you’d imagine a certain person would talk, rather than how they’d actually talk.
Kenya is proficient at offering readers a sense of the investigators’ bewilderment. The dinosaurs, creepy aliens, and fantastical objects appear and disappear as suddenly as they’re glimpsed. Solidly present and breathtaking, and then gone. The reader is provided the same frustrating, wondrous experience as the characters, and left grappling with the same questions. This awe and spectacle—and the reader’s belief in it—is largely accomplished via Léo’s artistry. He captures a spirit of adventure through place, and while his figure work can be somewhat stiff, his ability to draw dinosaurs and intriguing beasts in a fine, clear-lined style—with crisp colors—is masterful.
It’s remarkable that the cardboard character work and disparate genre elements don’t result in a piecemeal mess, so give credit to the well-executed narrative pace. It’s fairly slow-burning as the series reveals the bigger mysteries at play, but as the plot unfurls, Aberrations introduces minor intrigues and explores character motivations to maintain interest. More than anything, Kenya reads like an enthralling-despite-itself creature feature, one that Léo’s efforts lifts into superior territory. [Zainab Akhtar]
Breaking into an industry that’s as saturated with talent and stories as comic books can seem downright Sisyphean, especially when you want to tell a story the mainstream isn’t ready for. Joe Glass has created a book that confronts real-world homophobia and bigotry—instead of simply alluding to it—by creating the first LGBTQ superhero team. The Pride #5 (Queer Comix) is the penultimate issue of this series, barreling toward confrontation between the heroes and their nemesis. New threats lend some emotional weight to a book that occasionally felt too featherweight in earlier issues. The first few were dialogue heavy and the characters didn’t have completely distinct voices. But Glass is an amateur in the very best sense of the word: He writes this comic because he loves it, and that adoration shows in the book’s growth. Though there are six different artists on this issue alone, the story flows well and the pacing feels good as the team mourns a loss and prepares for the upcoming showdown. The fight scenes by Gavin Mitchell and Christian Wildgoose in particular are well executed; JD Faith, Jack Davies, and Kendall Goode do an excellent job conveying the different ways that people experience and display grief. Often when an individual issue has this many artists on one book, it becomes a distraction and an annoyance, but each scene is isolated enough that the transitions feel natural. Marc Ellerby, who draws the final pages and the big reveal for this issue, delivers cartoony panels with both comedy and drama, proving that style is no limitation on story.
Completely self-published, copies of The Pride won’t be in most stores, but you can buy issues on Comixology or at Glass’ website. It’s worth starting at #1 and reading through the clever character backstories at the end of each issue. Don’t forget to pick up The Pride Adventures #1 and #2, featuring short stories outside of the main arc; Glass does some great heavy lifting on these, especially the story of the hero Outrage. He’s confronting serious issues of bigotry and prejudice, focusing not only on the way external groups treat the LGBTQ community, but the kinds of ignorance and privilege that exist within it. Pride #5 is the first issue where the team welcomes a straight ally onto its roster, a moment that’s bracketed by an education of both the cost of violence and the sheer variety of people that fall under that one rainbow-hued acronym.
This book wallows in stereotypes that, in another setting, would be offensive and cruel. Here they’re reclaimed on behalf of the very real people they represent, characters slowly revealing nuance and personal histories that make them feel authentic and sympathetic. It’s certainly not untrod ground, but Glass and his team of friends are doing the same thing that the books’ characters set out to do: They’re normalizing the LGBTQ community by presenting it as one that is substantive and sincere and as difficult as the rest of the world, as far as a world full of superheroes can be substantive and sincere. After all, under the capes and cowls, we’re all just nerds in disguises, hoping to recognize people like us when we see them. [Caitlin Rosberg]