Kick-Ass

The fact that the two children on the cover are covered in blood is almost fair warning -- as much as they could put on a picture everyone will see. This is one of the most graphic, grisly comics I've ever seen. I had to ask a friend if I'd been out of the comic scene so long that this was now the norm. He assured me it wasn't.

The extensive gore is the point of this narration. Kick-Ass is a young man who wants to be a superhero. This story is trying very hard to show what that would mean in real life. It means that real fights are messy and repulsive, and that people who die in those fights don't do so neatly. It means that courage and determination mean very little against superior fire power. It means that if you've never fought show more before and you decide to jump into the ring without training or backup, you're going to get the crap beaten out of you. It means that violence is, well, violent.

It means that many comic books have been lying to us by glossing over this last point. That's what makes them so entertaining. And it's what makes reading Kick-Ass so difficult.

One more point. I don't know how she's portrayed in the movie, but make no mistake: There is nothing cute about Hit Girl. Her upbringing has been so saturated with violence that she smiles sweetly as she crushes a man to death.

Well, we know she's a freak as soon as we find out that she's being -- yep! -- homeschooled. By a father who "tells her everything she needs to know": extensive details about weaponry, what to do when a junkie pulls a forty-five, and the dictionary definition of a Democrat ("a ****ed-up prick who will march for the right to murder babies, but hold candlelight vigils for serial killers"). Yes, I understand why how her father raised her was important to the plot; but I'm never thrilled to find yet another story with the message that when you need the ultimate freak, find a homeschooler.

Anyway. This story says what it needs to say extremely effectively. What it needs to say is quite disturbing. Don't pick this up lightly, and do NOT give it to your kids without reading it first. show less

A young boy decides to become a REAL superhero, mostly because he's bored, and thus is Kick-Ass born. He ends up working with a 10-year-old cocaine sniffer with some killer sword moves, her father, Big Daddy, and a pothead (otherwise known as yet another "asshole," more like Kick-Ass himself, rather than someone actually becoming a vigilante) named Red Mist. Clever, funny (Kick-Ass's friends from school coin a new cuss word and Kick-Ass later hears it from the mouths of the gangsters he's, well, killing) and very violent. Highly enjoyable.

A few years back I saw the movie adaptation of this comic. It was violent and over the top in a grand way. It is true to the source material in this regard. The level and absurdity of violence is comparable, as is the gleefully twisted family dynamic of Hit-Girl and Big Daddy. The plot hit most of the same marks and much of the dialogue is identical.

But there is one staggering difference between the two. Conventionally modern superheroes stories operate as a subset of fantasy and escapism. Their stories typically draw a comfortably clear line between good and evil, with protagonists and villains safely boxed into their place in the narrative. There are exceptions of course, and the Kick-Ass comic is one of them.

The world of Kick-Ass is show more not really different from our own. It's not particularly terrorized by giant monsters or evil geniuses. Kick-Ass lacks the usual rousing origin story, he's just a bored nerd that's kinda sick of just being kinda normal. So he works himself up buys a costume and starts roaming the streets a few nights a week looking to fight crime. It shouldn't be overlooked that he instigates his first violent confrontation when he antagonizes a few vandals. He's looking for trouble at least as much as they are.

Things follow an electric, but morally...convenient course from there. Kick-Ass' internal dialog yo-yos between conviction that he's absolutely got to stop being Kick-Ass and his utter inability to give up the high and superiority he feels because of it. And it isn't just Kick-Ass. Big Daddy and Hit-Girl, the "real" superheroes in the story, are even more delusional and disfuctional than Kick-Ass.

Ultimately Millar delivers a punchy and thrilling action comic whose bottom line seems to be, these guys you call heroes, they're not. They're addicted to the idea of being superheroes and the superiority they feel over the norms and the law. It's enjoyable, but Millar won't let you forget that his protagonists aren't Superman, hell, they aren't even John McClain. They're the crazy people that just happen to be aiming their crazy at targets just reasonable enough for them to get away with it. show less

Kid decides he wants to be a superhero, takes his lumps, keeps at it, and makes good. The basic story is really that cliché (or is it that archetypal?), and not all Millar’s canny mix of cute character moments and pottymouthed nastiness can cover that up. And you know, maybe if it were the forties and they were killing Nazis or something, they would get a pass, but they’re killing drug addicts and sex workers like it ain’t nothing, and then going back to being regular sarcastic-yet-sweet-as-long-as-you-buy-them-the-new-iphone-for-Christmas American kids, and that’s not really okay. Millar may think it’s all over-the-top pastiche the way he’s emulating Frank Miller here, but it twists the discourse; it’s been grown out of show more by cop dramas and war movies and so genre’s no excuse; and it’s not okay. Most of all I weep for nerds—where once they could have been Spider-Man, or if they were really angry nerds worked out their frustrations with the Punisher, now all they get is a model that tells them the slightest deviation from the norm—hanging with drug dealers, being a bit creepy obsessive—merits extrajudicial execution (as long as you’re not creepy obsessive about doling out said execution; that’s just, um, super). Comics are for soap opera, and maybe once they were for making you feel like you could take on those bullies, but they’re not for teaching us that weirdos deserve to die, especially when said weirdos make up the readership. Luckily nobody under 30 reads comics now, or I’d weep for the nice kids getting turned into George Zimmerman. I’m exaggerating a bit, and there is some nuance here, but more “the suggestion of nuance,” if you know what I mean. show less

Kid tries to be a superhero, has his ass handed to him, undergoes such thorough reconstructive surgery that he can take a massive beating, and finds out that fighting crime is still a bigger task than an everyteen can handle. This made for a really fun movie, but the result is less exciting on the page. Among my issues with the story, the reveal of Big Daddy's origin completely took the wind out of him and Hit Girl. I enjoy Mark Millar's cynicism in most of the rest of the book, but Big Daddy's backstory felt like a cheap laugh where the story needed something admirable instead.

I usually have issues with the lack of story and background on characters in graphic novels, but this one was well sorted out. The main character wants to do something more with his life and he takes his inspiration from superheroes in the comic books he reads. More “real” superheroes come out of the woodwork and we get to know some of them and their reasons for putting themselves at risk as well.

There is no lack of action in the violence filled pages and the book has enough gratuitous nudity that it isn’t a comic meant for all ages. Though the blood and gore is a lot more realistic than most of the other comics it’s because the storyline is based in reality, it’s something that essentially could be true (no radioactive show more spiders or whatnot here). show less

A painfully self-aware, meta comic book about comic books. Overall, a pretty enjoyable read, but not a very deep or introspective book, largely content to stand as an example and satire of comic tropes rather than delve into deeper issues. It often relies on violence in lieu of real content, filling panels with violence in what seems like a cynical attempt to be "edgy".

I've seen the film as well, and honestly I feel like the movie lost absolutely nothing of value from the book. For an 8-issue book series, that really indicates how much is filler (and the movie is under 2 hours).

Let me put it this way: The Watchmen is a comic book about humanity, war, free will, responsibility, tragedy, love, and truth. Kick-Ass is a comic book about show more comic books.

For such a superficial, surface-level book, it is entertaining, well-drawn, engaging, and occasionally quite funny. It's a good read because it's a good time, in much the same way that a brainless popcorn action movie is a good time. show less