Mistress of the Dark #81
by Claypool Comics and written by Strom, Day LaChance, Dorne & Howell.
Priced at $2.95, the issue reviewed contains 23 pages.
A niche in time saved thine, Claypool Comics; eighty-one times, to be
The mentioned thine is Claypool's hide as a publisher. Elvira is its most
successful of three titles.
A niche is a small part of a large space (example: a politician's brain
in a normal sized skull).
The actress Elvira has carved out her niche in the large world of
television and film through amazing self promotion. She has leveraged hosting a
minor TV show featuring smarmy horror movies that make fans chuckle instead of
shiver into a cottage industry as she merchandises items including beer, audio
and video tapes, Halloween costumes and her own comic book.
Her niche audience is dedicated young boys who like sexy women and silly,
cheap movies, and desecrated old men who like to pretend they are young boys.
I like to pretend, and I like Elvira, the actress, and Elvira, the comic
book, for the same reasons:
1) Actress and comic, which both milk the same premise, both look good; 2) Actress and comic both make me grin because I enjoy
silly, cheap horror movies, 3) Both are fun, and 4) Both skirt but do not cross the fine line between sexy and salacious.
Yes, I know Elvira the comic book is not 'fine art' or great satire. But
great art or satire would look silly in that fine dress.
"A band of EVIL VAMPIRES has cast its shadow over FEAR CITY. They
are the...Deadbeats," and still the best (and only) comic book soap opera
around today. Replete with every soap opera trademark (i.e., cliché), this very
wordy, well-drawn, plot-heavy title proves once again that Claypool publishes
the wisdom of Socrates? Nah. The wit of Rush Limbaugh? Guess again. Claypool
publishes light entertainment that is fun to read and easy on the eyes.
Shadow and Doc Savage
knows what prenatal nostalgia lurks in the hearts of men?
Suspended Animation knows.
Prenatal nostalgia is the sentimental longing for things that existed
before you were born.
For readers slapping foreheads and muttering 'duh', I don't understand
either. But I love old radio shows, movie serials, comic strips, toys,
advertising, and pulp magazines popular before the'50s.
I love Doc Savage and The Shadow, and read their new comic
book with great prenatal nostalgia. And put it down with great-unfulfilled
It wasn't the comic; it was me.
The writing is clean, full of action and the touch marks of both
characters. Doc's copper skullcap, Empire State building headquarters, and
sidekicks Ham and Monk are here. Lamont's Penetrating eyes, network of agents,
barking guns and huge black cape and slouch hat are everywhere. I hear his
haunting, eerie laugh established by the radio show.
In this two issue mini-series, "The Case Of The Shrieking
Skeletons," skeletal horrors invade New York City and the heroic figures of
Doc and The Shadow butt heads as the mystery unravels.
The plot is perfect for both Weird monsters, Nazis, secret serums,
beautiful women, zeppelins and autogryros add to the 30's period flavor.
The art is crisp, exciting and perfectly suited to its subject. Icons of
the '30s add spice to almost every page, and violence is threatening without
being excessively bloody.
But that same warm familiarity underlying nostalgia that also demands new
material hold true to old standards can also produce big yawns if nothing
new is added.
Nothing new is added.
Recommended for those with an unjaded eye.
by Caliber Comics.
Incredible art and high melodrama in a world of unseen forces. SF.
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