I noticed I’ve been discussing Watchmen a lot in my reviews as of late. And it makes sense. Ever since the late 80’s, everything that has become manifest in this industry henceforth is some type of response in one way or another. Some swish. Some sip. No Hero, not content with a mere gulp, plunges itself headfirst into the stream of creative thought opened by Moore/Gibbons. More facsimile and pastiche than a properly laden homage, Ellis’ offering takes a thoroughly irreverent ‘bread and circus’ approach here to detrimental effect.
Moore’s critical barbs against the nostalgic roots of the industry have broadcast themselves and a good chunk of their seeds ended up here. Superheroes are depicted (as first seen in Watchmen) as the distorted, neurotic, far-from-perfect individuals (they most likely would actually be) seen within all seven issues. Presented with extra doses of intrigue and a stunning indifference to the plight of others they’re all despicable without an iota of goodness. Given just how unlikeable a great catalogue of these characters are, it’s truly a miracle that Ellis’ work from 2006 is able to earn itself a three star rating (from yours truly).
A hurriedly detailed style that inhales and exhales with no respect for a more normal pulsation, gives us just enough air to breath before crushing us against with a bajillion lines of form and function. Similar to Frank Miller’s HardBoiled, crunchiness is the style du jour with an overpowering emphasis on the micro. Fitting the philosophical urgency within, the choices in regards to illustration were well done here. Bone crunching brutality and the streams of blood and guts that follow are all colored to bursting effect. Crafty applications of eye candy pepper nigh ever other page leaving a memorable veneer with an unabashed preference for the seen. The macro level of narrative is of its own concern but, the micro level of visuals (for the most part) stand up well on their own here.
On the other hand however, the story itself is up for debate across all rungs of its character. Grafting its main thread of narrative from Watchmen itself, Ellis first germinates his anti-hero tale and then allows himself further artistic license - lifting from various other sources most notably here, The Matrix. The other references twill between ineffective and mediocre yet, it’s the repossessions of the green-code-tinted computer world that find themselves expertly planted. These hit and misses are thankfully brushed over well with a solid spate of writing until things mature just a tad more.
With the super-hero cadre acting within a more esoteric formulation here, one must be seen in heroic capacity to join the guild. Shortly after our super-hero idolizer/protagonist is taken in by the group he’s given a curiously unitary choice. Jacking directly from The Matrix, a Kali-influenced individual offers the hero to be a simple choice – just one pill to begin the transformation. This thoughtful decision which rejects Morpheus’ dual pill proposition, seemingly digs another bard into the inherent teleology of the Comic Book world. With no choice, all super heroes must follow along their predetermined tracks with no ability to decide otherwise. Trapped within their invisible casks of amontillados, superheroes are damned by their ever-escalating duties.
Seemingly exposing the internalized damnation of our cape clothed friend(s), the transformative mcguffin that turns the scrawny into the brawny, has horribly backfired, leaving the protagonist mutilated before belief. Implicitly, Ellis’ is seeming to tell us that we don’t need to follow Icarus very far to be burned by heavenly delusions. Nor do we need to construct a fabulous building stretching to the sky (Babel) to bring it all crashing down. Without a scintilla of doubt the lesson is simple here: all the seeds of our destruction are found within.
In either case, the plot flips polarity and a whole host of plot-twists-and turns ramp up toward the last two issues. Sparing the details worth reading, I will however state that yet another harsh barb in Watchmen fashion is formulated and thrust here to nasty effect. Just as Morpheus’ duality is rejected, so too does No Hero rejects Watchmen’s closed loop of narrative. Seemingly staving off the intrinsic nihilism of life with a (perhaps) more Eastern response, Moore’s Dr. Manhattan simply states, “Nothing ever ends…” Beginning with a bloody smiley face pin and ending with the same image, it could be said that, “ain’t a damn thang [sic] changed.” For No Hero on the contrary, something far more bleak is the uncompromising response.
Ultimately, anything riffing off of Watchmen will be held to an impossibly high standard. Which is fine when other comics incorporate elements from it’s stylistic bequeathments, yet to swim in the same vein of hyper-self-awareness and personal criticism, No Hero is certainly no hero. Moore and Gibbon’s challenged us with great themes and powerful symbolism to deconstruct the internal contradictions of comics while telling a great story. Ellis on the other hand, has reappropiated what he likes but, was unable to develop anything seminal, merely mildly enjoyable. Filching what works and filling in where needed, we get a well-illustrated grittiness that only finds itself suffused with a mediocre story that, while can be enjoyable on its own, a further reading into the manifestations of anti-comic ethos pales in comparison to its spiritual predecessor. With only a tiny handful of barbs to add, No Hero is a splinter in the minds eye compared to the RedWood built by Moore and Gibbons.