Writer: Leah Williams
Artist: Matteo Lolli, Daniel
Hillyard
2024
Read: 8/24
Grade: D-
The story of this purchase is an interesting one. I saw this Guilliam March connecting cover set in a preview catalog on one of the first days back in the comic shop and liked it enough to put an order in for it months before it was released. I was less interested in what the story might be than I was in the fact that I thought the covers were well done and would look good as perhaps a seasonal decoration for the month of October. I had almost forgotten about the purchase entirely when the first issue came in and, rather than let the purchase price be sunk entirely into the cover art, gave the story inside a chance. What I found was a little hollow, but not without moments of intrigue and entertainment.
The first thing one notices upon survey of the entire story is the frustrating vacillation in art quality. I don’t like to speak ill of anyone’s artistic talents, but it is an odd choice to alternate between the two artists over the course of the four issue run. It isn’t that Hillyard’s work is poor so much as that his decidedly more cartoonish stylings are dramatically different than the issues penciled by Lolli. Even the colors are so inexplicably discordant that one would be forgiven for thinking two different stories were going on.
(Matteo Lolli) (Daniel Hillyard)
I don’t know if this is a cost issue, or a timeline issue, or an availability issue, but (and this is not a criticism exclusive to this series) whatever the reason, it’s clearly evidence that having a creatively unified product is not a prerequisite for commercial release. I understand that things happen and an artist may not be able to finish a project in a given time frame, and these studios have chosen substitution as a preferable ill to delay, but there’s such a prodigious number of books being released every week that perhaps it's time to reconsidering the organizing of those priorities.
The sad truth is that most of what I’ve read since returning to the medium, this work included, is narratively bankrupt. I don’t doubt the talent of these writers, but when a book is due every thirty days, apparently it has to be released whether there’s a story in it or not. That may be the reality for ongoing series (Batman, Superman, and the like), but for limited series such as this one would think it the perfect opportunity to avoid those pitfalls. There is no rush, no waiting audience, and a writer could develop a complete narrative, artists could be properly organized and scheduled, and patience and restraint could be used in crafting something with real quality. Unfortunately that doesn’t seem to be the case.
What’s most baffling about this enterprise is the failure in some of the most basic elements of storytelling. Interestingly, the seed of this story is an engaging one. Punchline, having developed (or stolen) a formula for a nanite-infused energy drink that allows its purchasers to participate in a real life combat/hunting simulator wherein the avatars they inhabit can murder live targets.
The concept itself gets needlessly complicated as the nanites subsequently repair the damaged “avatars”, but at its core there really is something there. Commentary on the rampant immorality fostered by internet anonymity, the dehumanizing effect of virtual distance, there’s no shortage of room to say something here. However, if it can be said that it has anything to say whatever, it would probably be some general censure of corporatism that appears in the last few pages of the series.
The fundamental narrative issues start early when one considers the Sirens themselves. Were Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn classic heroes, Punchline’s villainy would be reason enough for them to get involved, but, unless I’m much mistaken, they are not heroes, classic or otherwise. Catwoman has historically been portrayed as amoral, Harley seems hardly the type to be perturbed by the chaos stemming from Punchline’s game, and without a viable threat to nature, Poison Ivy doesn’t seem the type to intervene either. Poison Ivy is given a personal reason to be invested in stopping Punchline, but only at the end of the story. In short, I can see no reason why this band of characters would even blink at this situation. Motivation is only the start of the character weaknesses in this story as none of the characters have anything resembling an arc, personal conflict, or growth. They decide to stop Punchline rather arbitrarily, and the series of rather random events that follows is similarly arbitrary.
Sadly, the word arbitrary demands a discussion of the plot. The story begins with Punchline’s henchmen trying to catch White Rabbit to use as an exclusive avatar in
Punchline’s game.
Ostensibly, part of the Siren’s impetus to stop Punchline is to rescue White Rabbit, but since the White Rabbit is the product of Jaina Hudson’s ability to split herself into two separate beings that share a consciousness, it’s clear that the creators have not put the prerequisite amount of thought into the implications of this unique power set, so (not intending to do their job for them) I’ll simply take it for granted that this being is something that needs to be saved and not something that will just disappear if Jaina just stops using her power.
I only say this because the remainder of the story after the White Rabbit’s capture is easily recounted. The Siren’s hijack an XO Punch truck in order to infiltrate Punchline’s distribution facility, are captured easily, and then rescued miraculously by a pair of hidden powers that should have been utilized from the outset in order to save everyone the trouble of having to work so hard. The first of these powers is White Rabbit’s ability to free herself from the mind control powers of the XO Punch and, in a feat that should have been attempted on the first panel, to conjure a super-strong version of herself that certainly would have prevented capture in the first place.
The second is Poison Ivy’s ability to, in essence, create a fully animated plant Megazord which suggests that all her previous defeats at the hands of Batman were entirely voluntary.
Now all of this is minutiae and irrelevant in the grand scheme. However, with the lack of anything resembling character, or theme, or cohesive narrative, these logical failings are drawn into the spotlight for want of topics of more substance.
Like the premise, the villain, Punchline, ends up being rather disappointing. She is ultimately used as a tool in the previously mentioned shallow critique of corporate immorality and part of the thoughtless generalization about the wealthy (well wealthy men as apparently this particular sin is gender specific).
If simple greed is the motivation for her actions, then the fact that bio-regenerating nanites could generate staggering wealth legally would simultaneously unravel this narrative were it raveled to begin with.
This is all more thought than this story asks for or deserves, but it certainly isn’t altogether a loss either. There are a few genuinely funny moments, and on more than one occasion I actually laughed out loud. These moments invariably involved Harley, who enjoys the privilege of being the only discernible character in the entire series.
These moments are not enough to save the whole, but neither should they be lightly overlooked.
The series got a bevy of high quality variant covers. March’s connecting covers are only one of these sets. Terry Dodson, Jeehyung Lee, Scott Forbes, a swimsuit cover, an action figure cover, and a foil cover make up only a partial list of the immense talent and cost that was spent adorning the outside of this story. I know that the state of comics is such that variant covers are an indispensable income source for many artists, and I sympathize. However, if all the cost of creating variant editions of this story was invested in making sure that there was a story worth reading, I believe the long term viability of these struggling companies would be better served.
Overall, I think there is a real premise here that deserves exploration, and it’s disappointing to see that promise go unrealized. For dedicated fans of the Gotham City Sirens as a group, I can’t even say there is much of a dynamic here between these characters to latch onto other than a handful of panels establishing Harley and Ivy’s romantic relationship. There are some laughs, and some very well executed art. I particularly enjoy Triona Farrell’s colors on Matteo Lolli’s issues. I’m sure I would have stronger feelings about it had some of my personal favorite characters been cast in a story of this caliber, but as it is I don’t think it’s as offensive as I’ve heard from other circles. Harmless, pointless, and forgettable are really the most pejorative labels that can be put here. Even with its narrative failings, it’s not as though it is doing so in a manner that distinguishes it from most of the other new comic books hitting the shelves every week. I could only recommend it to the most die hard fans of the main characters or those, like myself, who are more interested in the work of the cover artists.
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