A character better known through iconic images than through people actually reading the stories – and indeed, creator Dean Motter admits in the foreword* that the whole concept of the character was reworked because the original idea (basically, a detective story set in Metropolis) didn't live up to the enigma of the advance publicity. But even in the version we have, I'm not wholly convinced the stories are as good as the covers, and that despite the opening issues being rare collaborative work by los bros Hernandez. Who, y'know, are quite good at this whole comics lark – but for my money give too much away too soon about the enigmatic lead, when I'd have preferred him to be a marginal figure threading in and out of other stories in Radiant City for a while yet. Not to mention bringing in Luba for a guest spot, when I would have thought the SF undertones in Maggie and Hopey's early stories would have made them, or maybe Penny Century, a much more natural fit. Nor is this the only time when their issues feel ill at ease with the whole gig; for all that they've proven over and over again that they can expand the boundaries of comics, their depiction of Radiant City never quite catches that notion of an impossible, ideal, vaguely Art Deco city gone horribly awry. To be honest, mostly it looks more like Croydon. And Radiant City does need to be more than that; Tim Burton's Gotham is an obvious point of comparison, though if anything its true DC heir is Aztek's underused home of Vanity; I can't remember if that series ever used the term 'psychetecture', but it was clearly influenced by the idea, though there I believe the city was intended to drive people mad. Whereas here it's a more horribly plausible case of corners cut – a slight exaggeration with genre trappings of the situation which marred so much of Britain in the 20th century, where architects designed glorious cities in the sky, and then councils and developers scrimped them into soul-sapping concrete hutches instead.
The question then arising, of course, if the city wasn't built as the architect intended, how come his network of secret tunnels is still there and apparently operating exactly as he planned? Assuming he's the architect at all, of course, because soon Dean Motter takes over the writing, instead of just being listed with the unusual credit of creator/designer/covers. On art he's joined by Klaus Schönefeld and then, of all people, Seth. Both of them much better at selling the looming grandeur of the metropolis, even as Motter undercuts what's been established so far about Mr X's identity. This is hardly the first comic where each creative team feels the need to overwrite previous revelations about the lead, but is a rare case where that might actually have been designed in from the off. Even so, Mr X never quite becomes the enigma those publicity images suggested, still generally on the back foot, outplayed by everyone else, frequently thrown out on his arse with a confused expression and a cloud above him that wouldn't be out of place in a light moment of Tintin. Gradually, though, the comic does become a little more Expressionist, a little trickier to follow but a lot better at evoking its own mood, with visuals reminiscent of a Rian Hughes retro-future gone to seed – albeit culminating in a finale for whose slipshod state Motter feels the need to add an apology, even after doing his best to rejig it.
Almost the last thing here is the first Mr X story I ever read, the Gaiman/McKean vignette from A1, and reading it now is the one time the actual comic hints at the same vast, elegantly looming possibilities as the covers and posters did. I wouldn't say I regret reading the rest, but I think maybe Mr X meant more to me as something obliquely glimpsed, and I can certainly see why it hasn't remained part of the canon for new readers in the same way as some of its contemporaries.
*One of three, to be precise. Jeffrey Morgan's has a straining for effect, and that unfortunate insistence on using big words that aren't quite right, which makes one dread his turn as the comic's writer, but the unintentional comic masterpiece is Warren Ellis'. "I've been in love with graphic design my whole life", he tells the reader, which isn't quite having a passion for it, but close enough. He also expresses his fondness for Mr X's catchphrase "So much to do and so little time to do it", which with hindsight seems a perfect summary of the huge number of promised projects he left unfulfilled while sliding into the DMs of an even huger number of people. All the same, the inspiration on Spider Jerusalem and still more so Doktor Sleepless is clear.