I.N.J. Culbard

This volume opens "Year Three" of Titan's Eleventh Doctor ongoing, and as always, I find it excellent stuff. The opening two-parter, "Remembrance"/"The Scream" by returning writer Rob Williams with artists I. N. J. Culbard, Leandro Casco, and Wellington Diaz, takes the Doctor and Alice first to the funeral of their old friend John Jones, and then to a trap laid for them by a Silence who's so good at being forgotten that not even his own people remember who he is. As always, it's full of show more bonkers, delightful, dark stuff that is both very Doctor Who and nothing like the tv show. (Well, actually, it reminds me a lot of the first half of series 6's opening two-parter; "The Impossible Astronaut" is a delightfully disconcerting opening that I felt "Day of the Moon" didn't really capitalize on, and this pushes out even further in that direction.) My only complaint here is that what actually happened to the memories of the Doctor and Alice is a bit nebulous; their quest to regain them seem to be the Year Three arc, but it also seems that they remember most things!

As always, Rob Williams trades off his stories with another writer; in this case, newcomer Alex Paknadel writes "The Tragical History Tour" with returning artist Simon Fraser. Again, this is a story with an off-the-wall concept: time on Earth becomes spatialized, so you can get from one year to the next just by walking. The late 1960s start invading future years to take their stuff; the Doctor, Alice, and the Sapling bump into Alice's neighbor Kushak, all whose past selves are taking refuge in his 2015 apartment. So the Doctor, Alice, the Sapling, and all the Kushaks pile into a bus and drive back to 1968 to figure out what's going on! I enjoyed it a lot, though I did wish it was a three-parter as I felt the character(s) of Kushak kind of got lost in the midst of everything else. But this is a series that never does three-parters really, and is probably better for it; The Eleventh Doctor rockets through concepts that other Titan ongoings would probably drag out to tedium, always chasing the novelty that makes it always the best of the ongoings.

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Great graphic adaptations of four of H.P. Lovecraft's longer novellas: The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, At the Mountains of Madness and The Shadow Out of Time -- all but one ('Charles Dexter Ward') favourites of mine too. INJ Culbard's spare style works well to make these works accessible, while preserving much of the original texts. Culbard makes great use of darkness in his panels, to give the sense of a torchlight swallowed in cyclopean gloom, or to show show more stars or the moon, or the face of Nyarlathotep.

I had read the latter two adaptations separately before, but I was delighted to find that INJ Culbard had illustrated 'Dream Quest' and 'Charles Dexter Ward', each of which has come out well, though maybe with a touch less attention to detail than the previously-published two.

Wishlist: An adaptation of The Haunter of the Dark would have perfected this collection.

Opening and closing the collection with 'Dream Quest' and 'The Shadow Out of Time' reminded me of the parallels between those two -- a man in each driven to explore his tantalising and terrible dreams to the utmost. show less

"Year Two" of The Eleventh Doctor comes to an end. I will admit that I did not entirely understand how this all fit together; maybe if I had read this story arc all at once instead of spread out across six months. (But then, it originally appeared across an entire year!) But, to be honest, I didn't really care. This is great stuff: great character moments for the eleventh Doctor, for Alice, for the Master, for the War Doctor, for the Squire, even for Abslom Daak! And great, weird concepts. I show more think more than any other Doctor Who tie-in creators, the writers and artists of this series have captured the weirdness and the horror of the Time War. Some genuine creepy bits-- counterbalanced by some genuine punch-the-air moments. I look foward to seeing where this comic goes in "Year Three"; indeed, it may be the only Titan ongoing I actually do follow into Year Three.

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4.5/5 stars
Thanks to the publisher and Edelweiss for providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

One of the best things about the first season of Netflix's adaptation of The Umbrella Academy was the way it developed Klaus. In the comics, he wasn't depicted as much more than a troubled drug addict who could talk with the dead. But the show dove deep into his past, expanding upon the trauma he undergoes by exposing himself to these unrestful spirits, and giving him a heartbreaking love show more story and an unhealthy amount of Vietnam PTSD. The show turned a character who was merely quirky in the comics into a character that was multi-layered and deeply complex. So, in the wake of this, the announcement of a Klaus-centric prequel comic was exciting. What kind of a past would the character's creator, Gerard Way, (and co-writer Shaun Simon) give him? How much would it differ from the show? What happened to eighteen-year-old Klaus after he was expelled from the Umbrella Academy? As it turns out, these aren't really the questions at the front of the comic's mind. While it does explore some of Klaus's trauma and psyche, You Look Like Death is more of a fun romp with a fan-favorite character than an intimate character study. But honestly, it's so much fun that that's not much of a problem.

This is a fun story. That’s the emotion that jumps out the most while reading this comic. Fun. If you’ve read The Umbrella Academy and always wondered what life outside of whatever city it’s typically set in is like, then look no further than You Look Like Death. This comic takes readers outside of the confines of The Umbrella Academy and into this universe's version of Hollywood—a town crawling with actors, demons, gods, vampires, and monkeys who are sometimes vampires. It's an eclectic town, much like the real-life Hollywood. And it's a place that feels quite inviting to Klaus. The general plot of the story involves Klaus making his way to Hollywood after being kicked out of the Umbrella Academy and angering a local drug lord (who's also a vampire monkey). There, he is taken in by Vivian, an aging actress who promises Klaus all manners of escapes from reality in exchange for his ability to channel long-dead actors and actresses.

For an Umbrella Academy story, it's surprisingly straightforward. With the main series' first three arcs, Way established a pattern where he'd introduce a bunch of complicated, seemingly unconnected ideas, expand on them for several issues, and then have them crash together in the final issue or two of the arc. And that's sort of what he does here, but everything is a little easier to follow than most Umbrella Academy stories. Everything moves at a nice, brisk pace and answers are never far behind the moments you start asking questions. I can't classify the genre of a story like this—it's part classic Hollywood film, part mob drama, part introspective character study, and part comedy. On paper, this isn't a story that should work. At all. This combination of strange and ill-fitting elements should result in a story that feels discombobulated. But it doesn't. Somehow, Simon and Way have created this weird story that feels both vast in scale and extremely intimate. It's a delight from beginning to end.

It helps that this book doesn't have an ensemble cast in the way the rest of the series does. Klaus is clearly the main character, with every other character acting as support for him. All stories revolve around—and converge with—Klaus's, and it makes for a more linear, coherent experience. That's not to say this book isn't weird as hell—I mean, there's a subplot involving a turf war between vampires and another that involves the Hollywood Gods looking for their next big movie. Hardly a page goes by without something weird happening. And, if all of that wasn't enough, there's a kind of purgatory between heaven and hell that Klaus occasionally visits (more on that in a moment), complete with flying furniture and a dead man named Lyle who's spent his life writing a novel, to the neglect of all his loved ones.

Thematically, this is a story about Klaus coming to terms with his past trauma. The parasitic relationship he and Vivian share mirrors the one he's had with Sir Reginald Hargreeves his entire life, and it's the closest the book comes to a true deep dive into Klaus's psyche. If like me, you're approaching this comic in the hopes of reading something with the depth found in Klaus's arc in season one of the Netflix show, you're gonna be disappointed. There are hints of something that deep, but Simon and Way never focus on it that much. The closest they come are in the scenes between Klaus and Lyle in Purgatory. While most of these scenes focus on Klaus helping Lyle, there are a few where Lyle tries to probe Klaus's trauma, getting him to divulge little bits about himself that are as revealing as they are important to the grander storyline. To be clear, there aren't many of these moments, but when they're there, they're delightful. I'd have gladly traded some of the smaller subplots for more scenes exploring Klaus's psyche, but it's hard to complain when the rest of the book is as fun as this is. I mean, who doesn't want to read such a bonkers comic?

As is often the case, You Look Like Death’s artwork is what holds the comic together. I cannot emphasize how impressed I am by I.N.J. Culbard’s artwork. It can be really hard for a new artist to play around in a world so defined by the work of another artist, yet Clubard’s artwork pulls this off brilliantly. It’s noticeably different than Gabriel Bá’s work in the main series, but it also feels like it exists within the world he’s created. Culbard adheres to the established designs of characters like Klaus and Hargreeves while still putting his own spin on them. But with the book being set in Hollywood instead of the normal Umbrella Academy setting, Culbard is given the freedom to create his own little corner of the Umbrella Academy universe. And he does this with immense style and beauty. He draws Hollywood as a city that lives in both light and shadow. At times, it has a sort of futuristic noir-like feel, with lots of blues and neon. But at other times, it feels very warm and inviting. For a book as seeped in fantasy as You Look Like Death is, Culbard’s artwork grounds it in something close to reality. The purgatory-like Void he creates is mesmerizing, too. It looks unlike any other depiction of purgatory I’ve ever seen, and it’s the kind of setting that you want to spend more time in. Overall, Culbard’s artwork is a brilliant addition to Simon and Way’s story. It’s beautiful, but not distractingly so. His artwork does a perfect job of helping readers understand the visual aspects of the story and I can’t praise it enough.

While You Look Like Death isn't really the story I expected, or wanted, going into it, I can't deny how much fun I had reading it. Yes, it's not as deep a look into Klaus's psyche as the Netflix show has given. And, yes, that's a little disappointing. But what it is is an exploration of some previously unseen corners of The Umbrella Academy universe. And, while it doesn't probe its main character particularly deeply, it does develop him as a character, making him feel more three-dimensional than he's felt in some of the series' main arcs. The plot is simple but completely nuts, with lots of weird asides, unusual characters, and creative ideas. The whole thing is tied together by some beautiful artwork from I.N.J. Culbard that manages to straddle the line between honoring what Gabriel Bá has done in the main series and being its own thing. If you're a fan of any aspect of The Umbrella Academy—whether it's the show or the comics or both—then you're gonna love this. If you're a fan of Klaus, you're gonna love this even more. It's a great, unique, exciting read. show less