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.”
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.
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.
Travis Moody 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.