Uncanny X-Men 530

This is the first X-Men comic I’ve read since the end of Grant Morrison’s run, and it’s not bad. Not great, but not bad either.

The main thrust of the storyline centres around a virus hitting the mutant community in Utopia. At the same time, there’s trouble in San Francisco’s Chinatown when a mutant tries to muscle in on the protection rackets there, and the Sublime Corporation is intent on creating a new team of mutants.

Big brownie points here: what has happened in previous issues is clearly summarised at the beginning, and the individual scenes are well-defined so that you know what’s happening, and where. It reminded me of the technique you see in big, blockbuster movies, with scenes set in diverse geographical locations, each clearly signposted. It’s not subtle or original, but at least you emerge with a clear idea of what’s going on.

Matt Fraction has a nice line in dialogue. There’s a strong sense of character, and the interplay between Scott and Emma Frost, in particular, is well handled. Where he comes a complete cropper is where he introduces a stanchly Communist self-replicating mutant in the San Francisco area. The characterisation’s not quite as crude as the Nazis and Communists that found their way into comics during previous eras, but it’s not far off. It’s also an indication perhaps that the rising power of China might also be producing the new breed of villains in the coming years. Strange, isn’t it, that the baddies are always the ones that present the most threat to the dominant economic powers?

It’s just as well that the characters are well defined, because the art does nothing to help in that respect. Greg Land’s art is interesting, but it’s bloody awful as well. It’s interesting, because it reminds me of what an X-Men comic would look like if Romain Slocombe drew it: heavy photographic references, and a definite emphasis on cheesecake. Bloody awful because all the characters look the same, with the same models obviously used more than once. And Scott Summers must be based on photographs of Tom Cruise, because he’s a dead ringer. It’s airbrushed and glossy, and everyone smiles as though they’re in a 1950s toothpaste advert. The women pout and pose in ways that are entirely unnatural, and sometimes anatomically impossible. In his favour, it’s clearly laid out. It’s just impossible to tell sometimes who is doing what, because so many of his women in particular are identical.

Still, overall, it’s not too bad an effort, and if that seems as if it’s damning with faint praise, then it’s only until you look at some of the other mainstream comics out there, many of which are infinitely poorer. It kept me interested enough while I was reading it, and I’ll probably pick up the next issue that comes along, just to see where things are going.