The Savage Hawkman #1

A comic review article by: Travis Walecka
When I offered our wonderfully prolific writer Ray Tate the opportunity to give up reviewing Superman or Savage Hawkman, there was no surprise after reading this issue why he happily obliged. To at least this reviewer, both of these DC titles had high expectations, and to put it bluntly, they both failed. One more than the other, perhaps, yet, regardless, reviewing either was certainly "pick your poison."



Ever since "Batman R.I.P." artist Tony Daniel became the ongoing auteur of Batman, he's had his fair share of cynics. I was not one of them. Even the New 52 Detective Comics got its share of both good and bad reviews, and there's no question much of that has to do with reputation. Daniel has established himself within DC as consistent on both ends of the spectrum, and since fans haven't received a stellar outing of Hawkman since Geoff Johns left the title, Savage Hawkman had me excited. Had.

That's not to say The Savage Hawkman #1 is a bad book by any means. Philip Tan's enigmatic art elicits just the right atmosphere for such a cryptic tale. No matter what Carter origin of the hundreds you most desire, the plot is most certainly sufficient.



The problem lies within the dialogue. What Hawkman had in common with this week's other disappointment, George Perez's Superman, is the overuse of narration -- and that of the completely mundane. This New 52 initiative is supposed to attract fans of superhero film, graphic novels or lost long-time readers into the new wave of exciting, cinematically-driven comic content. Having dull recitation boxes in nearly every panel doesn't deliver that promised film-reading experience.

How difficult is it to connect with the hero at hand when the intended mystic tones are forced down the reader's throats? If Carter is supposedly the Indiana Jones of the DCU, as adventurer, cryptologist and superhero, we want to grow alongside him, not be subjected to him. And when there's no character development throughout these first 22-pages other than "woe is me," it's impossible not to feel a slight disconnect with the man.



I really wanted to love this book. The title alone is pretty badass. Tan's artistic style should also serve as an enchanting match. It's just a matter of whether readers these days --with as much of a daunting choice of the other 51 titles -- will have such patience. Consider both Savage Hawkman and Superman dropped from my pull-list.


Travis Walecka has gone through more phases than Paris Hilton has gone through tan lines. Hip-hop critic. MMA fighter. Furniture mover. Screenwriter. Hollywood bouncer. This guy puts Dean Malenko to shame, or at least Hayden Christensen. Nonetheless, the newfound phase of this all-too-positive "Loose Cannon" (as monikered from various music and film review sites) is simply comics, going on three years strong. After blowing the lot of his savings on graphic novels and stupid "collectible" figurines, Travis decided to leave them all in Boston and head to his next destiny: Hollywood, California.

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