Here we are for this month’s release of another Manhattan Projects. The stakes are even higher and the action is palpable in its rising intensity. The projects are on the ropes as Oppenheimer enacts his final game plan to destroy them for his own nefarious purposes.
The issue starts out with a flashback, and you can always tell when something’s a flashback or not by the way it’s colored. Bellaire has a way of using the duotones of Red and Blue in such a way that it’s never boring to look at just 2 colors and all their illustrious shades between. It’s always worked well in this comic. This flashback is all foreshadowing for the finale of this issue, and the call back, once revealed and executed, is pretty funny. Speaking of which there’s a few good jokes and moments of levity in this issue that had me cracking up pretty hard.
In the flashback scene, Feynman and Einstein literally get caught in a “shit trap.” I found the whole situation to be quite hilarious and unbelievable as a whole, getting caught in such a shitty trap. Yes that pun is intended!
All the little schemes and plans of Oppenheimer up to this point have come to fruition and are almost enacted fully until we see Einstein and Feynman, through the use of the flashback scene, successfully and albeit accidentally put a roadblock in the way of his devious plans. An all out relentless attack is now taking place inside The Manhattan Projects. Soldiers are dying against a monster of Goliath proportions that is, for all intents and purposes, unstoppable.
The action is pretty nonstop after a certain point in this issue. Bullets are flying in every direction and people are being massacred in ways that only Hickman can calculate with his own pragmatic style of dealing out death to fictional characters on a page. There’s a great line in here from a character that once again had me laughing out loud when I read it, and it's part of why I love Hickman’s writing style; he never seems like he writes anything that’s forced or boring, which I have pointed out multiple times when reviewing his comics.
Nick Pitarra is back for this issue again after Ryan Browne filling in for a couple issues, and, as always, his art is great to look at and you can always pick it out of any line up for its uniqueness. There are some panels within that the lines seem a little too thickly drawn, which isn’t a detriment but it looks different than anything else. One example is the reveal of the monster out of a doorway. The tentacles are thickly drawn, so thick that it distracts from the rest of things within the panel. Other than that, it's business as usual: gruesome deaths and amorphous monsters to contend with that all get Pitarra’s great art treatment.
This is one of my favorite comics out right now, so as always I highly recommend it if you haven’t read it or if you’ve been on the fence about it.
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About the Author - Wildcard
Dustin prefers to go by the name of Wildcard, and he wont tell you his last name because then he would have to kill you. Or mostly because it's unpronounceable to most people. His love of comics formed during the 90's when Superman was dying and Batman was broken. Years later when touring with a band around 2008 the only thing he had to do was read extensive amounts of comics and catch up on all the missed years of stories, therefore the wealth of knowledge in his head is insurmountable by anyones standards. He considers himself extremely opinionated when it comes to comic books or any form of media, which has always caused arguments and butt hurt a plenty due to his outspoken opinions on such things. In his spare time he writes some comics he hopes to get published one day and is a graphic designer. He sometimes wishes Nicolas Cage was his real father. Hail Sagan. Follow Wildcard on Twitter, Facebook, and Tumblr.
“Your head's like mine, like all our heads; big enough to contain every god and devil there ever was. Big enough to hold the weight of oceans and the turning stars. Whole universes fit in there! But what do we choose to keep in this miraculous cabinet? Little broken things, sad trinkets that we play with over and over. The world turns our key and we play the same little tune again and again and we think that tune's all we are.”
― Grant Morrison
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