Scan barcode
A review by billyjepma
James Bond, Vol. 1: VARGR by Jason Masters, Warren Ellis
4.0
I dug the hell out of this.
Usually, I have trouble getting into Bond stories, mainly because the guy is too slimy for me to care about him at all. But the James Bond that Ellis writes here isn’t like that. This Bond is exactly the kind of stone cold asshole I’ve always felt he should be. Yes, he’s obviously a womanizer, but instead of being romantic, he’s just charming and aggressive. Yes, he’s got wit, but it’s dry and inappropriate and often colored with shades of dark humor. It all makes him difficult to root for, honestly, but I like that. I like how Ellis gives us a Bond that isn’t beleaguered by internal conflict or heroism. And instead of developing him as a character, Ellis wastes no time immersing us in the violence and darkness that he is most at home in.
The story is as straightforward as they come, to be fair, but it still worked for me. We’ve got some scary henchmen for Bond to mess around with, lots of twisty-twists and double-crossings; all the classic tropes you want from a Bond story without the stuff (I personally) don’t care for. It’s all a bit shallow, but again, that feels intentional, more or less, and the straightforward nature of it all (alongside Ellis’ snappy and impeccably British dialogue) made it easy for me to just get on board with whatever espionage he had in store.
The real star of this comic is the art, though. While some of Masters’ facial expressions are a bit off, the choreography of his fight scenes and the way he dynamically plays with staging inside and outside of his panels is mesmerizing. When things get violent—and believe me, they do—Masters leads us through the gunplay like a musical conductor. There’s a drumbeat tempo to his movements and action that is irresistibly compelling, and his unwillingness to flinch away from blood and gore actually helps his work hit as hard as his figures do.
The book owes a lot to Major’s coloring as well, as it’s his use of shading and stark, vivid colors (the tone of red he uses for blood is grimy and dark and terrifying and so very effective) that effortlessly call attention to all the best details and movements in Masters’ pencils.
I’ll say it again: I dug the hell out of this. It’s wickedly fast paced, scathingly violent, and effortlessly cool. Ellis, Masters, and Major work wonders together, and their ability to let the others flex their creative muscles makes the comic play out like a dance of snappy dialogue and stunning displays of violence. I can’t wait to read the next volume.
Usually, I have trouble getting into Bond stories, mainly because the guy is too slimy for me to care about him at all. But the James Bond that Ellis writes here isn’t like that. This Bond is exactly the kind of stone cold asshole I’ve always felt he should be. Yes, he’s obviously a womanizer, but instead of being romantic, he’s just charming and aggressive. Yes, he’s got wit, but it’s dry and inappropriate and often colored with shades of dark humor. It all makes him difficult to root for, honestly, but I like that. I like how Ellis gives us a Bond that isn’t beleaguered by internal conflict or heroism. And instead of developing him as a character, Ellis wastes no time immersing us in the violence and darkness that he is most at home in.
The story is as straightforward as they come, to be fair, but it still worked for me. We’ve got some scary henchmen for Bond to mess around with, lots of twisty-twists and double-crossings; all the classic tropes you want from a Bond story without the stuff (I personally) don’t care for. It’s all a bit shallow, but again, that feels intentional, more or less, and the straightforward nature of it all (alongside Ellis’ snappy and impeccably British dialogue) made it easy for me to just get on board with whatever espionage he had in store.
The real star of this comic is the art, though. While some of Masters’ facial expressions are a bit off, the choreography of his fight scenes and the way he dynamically plays with staging inside and outside of his panels is mesmerizing. When things get violent—and believe me, they do—Masters leads us through the gunplay like a musical conductor. There’s a drumbeat tempo to his movements and action that is irresistibly compelling, and his unwillingness to flinch away from blood and gore actually helps his work hit as hard as his figures do.
The book owes a lot to Major’s coloring as well, as it’s his use of shading and stark, vivid colors (the tone of red he uses for blood is grimy and dark and terrifying and so very effective) that effortlessly call attention to all the best details and movements in Masters’ pencils.
I’ll say it again: I dug the hell out of this. It’s wickedly fast paced, scathingly violent, and effortlessly cool. Ellis, Masters, and Major work wonders together, and their ability to let the others flex their creative muscles makes the comic play out like a dance of snappy dialogue and stunning displays of violence. I can’t wait to read the next volume.