A gritty tale of violence and morality. By day, Cameron Daltrey is an L.A. bail bondsman for superhuman freaks. By night, he's a masked bounty hunter taking out his aggressions on those same bail-skipping freaks.
Librarian note: there is more than one author with this name
Joe Casey is an American comic book writer. He has worked on titles such as Wildcats 3.0, Uncanny X-Men, The Intimates, Adventures of Superman, and G.I. Joe: America's Elite among others. As part of the comics creator group Man of Action Studios, Casey is one of the creators of the animated series Ben 10.
When Cameron Daltrey gets in trouble with a judge for using too much force on a bail skipper he'd apprehended, he is banned from bringing in such men. but Daltrey specializes in super-human bail notes, and it's difficult for regular folks to bring them in. Plus, he likes beating people up. So what does Daltrey do? He dons a barcode mask and hunts them down himself. Codeflesh feels like a comic that planned to have a broad understory -- some explanation of the genetic engineering that some of the characters mention, some rhyme or reason for the protagonist's costume or the comic's title, and perhaps a big bad for Daltrey to fight against. But in the short run of the comic there's not much for the reader to grab onto - Daltrey is neither noble enough to admire nor delightfully vicious enough to admiringly hate, he's just grubby, like a two-bit side character from the dark hero ages of 1990-2004. I picked this up because I think Automatic Kafka is amazing, and I can see a similar interest in disrupting the normal "hero = amazing person" trope, but where AK hit, I think codeflesh misses. There is one exception, though -- the villain "Rotor," who has many body parts, including his genitals, replaced with flamethrowing apparatus. If only the series had included more moments like that.
Codeflesh opens with a bang. There's a great setup of this anonymous bounty hunter living in a world of superpowered criminals. Unfortunately the book never really develops from there, and the whole thing feels half baked. There's very little payoff to the initial world building, and I'm not sure what it was ultimately trying to say. Perhaps if it had been a longer running series something might have come from it, but the short page count leaves little room for it to develop.
Peleas gratuitas, una historia sin sentido, y un desfile de clichés concatenados. Todo ello, guiado por un dibujo que recuerda a Risso en sus peores viñetas, con un color y una estética terrosa, sucia y angustiosa.
This is basically an excuse for black and white grimdark violence, as a bail bondsman in a mask with a barcode on it (for no reason that is ever explained) beats up bail skippers (with super powers) and fails at his personal life. Really, that's the extent of the story. It's all about the violence, and frankly that got boring by the second story in. The only reason it gets two stars is that the last story in the collection has a rather novel approach to its dialog balloons and story. But beyond that creative expression, there really is nothing in this book that I would recommend to anyone. The concept seemed interesting, but it doesn't bring anything to the story. It's violence for the sake of violence, and that's not enough to support a book.
First of all, I think Joe Casey is one of the unsung heroes of comicdom that doesn't get the credit he deserves, and is definitely on par with his more famous contemporaries. But Codeflesh, I dunno ... something didn't sit right. I remember really liking it when I was reading the shorts, but collected, I dunno, it was just missing something. I think this would have greatly benefited if it came out now, presently, as an ongoing series.
Gritty, noir-ish collection of tales featuring a bail bondsman who moonlights as a masked bounty hunter. Interesting enough stories, with the usual costumed hero problems involving his secret identity, his relationships, etc. I never did find out, though, where the name "Codeflesh" comes from or why he uses the bar code on his mask.
C’est curieux. La première fois que j’ai lu Codeflesh (que j’avais découvert parce qu’illustré par Charile « Walking dead » Adlard), je l’avais semble-t-il adoré. En le relisant huit ans plus tard, si le récit est toujours aussi coherent et humain, je ne suis plus autant emporté. Les gens changent, leurs lectures aussi.