Oh, this is more like it. You might have thought Gillen would fancy a break from orchestrating X-events after the ambitious if uneven AXE. But this time out he only contributes a more manageable five issues, sharing the writing load with the X-office's other Brits, Al Ewing and Si Spurrier. Which pedigree might explain why, while the X-Men have confronted more than enough nightmarish possible futures over the years, this one distinguishes itself with definite notes of 2000AD and then 40K as it pushes through snapshots of the world and then the galaxy 10, 100 and finally 1000 years into a timeline where Mr Sinister's fiendish plans have come to fruition - and nobody likes it, not even him. "There hasn't been real progress in the last nine hundred years. There's merely been an increase in scale." "Mutants are undisputed rulers of the galaxy. Yet, somehow, hate and fear remain."
This is a big part of the appeal, of course, because Gillen has always written a compelling Sinister, turning a character who used to be faintly embarrassing into a delectably hissable pantomime villain. Unmistakably a dick, but an entertaining dick, and one who isn't always wrong - his reducing mutants to the utility of the genes he's stolen from them is self-evidently monstrous, but he has a point about how many of them have wasted their powers over the years, and indeed that before he took over, humanity was apparently bent on something at least as bad as his dystopia. Hell, even on the small scale: "I'm not sure why the Boston Tea Party was a big deal. Americans lobbing fine tea into freezing water is just business as usual."
But if Sinister embodies the urge towards commodification and instrumentalisation, that doesn't leave the other mutants blameless, and certainly not their leaders. They may have been corrupted by Sinister's science shenanigans, but they had their sins too, whether a faith that can be weaponised by the unscrupulous, or that terrible temptation of how much better the world would surely be if only all the idiots could see that you were right (a theme picked up from the Xavier issue of Immortal X-Men, and at the last Xavier comes off at least as badly as anyone here).
Some of the underlying work is exactly the sort of thing endemic to modem superhero events, especially the notion that if Sinister has a diamond on his forehead, what about the other three suits? Yet where Geoff Johns and his heirs have made stuff like this a wearying grind of brand extension, here (and in the build-up) it regained the appropriate sense of satisfaction and wonder at a question implicit but long unasked, and pieces falling into place. Similarly, the hubris of his/their plan, aiming not to become a mere god - who, after all, in Marvel tend just to be big lads who join superteams - but something much more impressive.
And if that's the big picture, the page by page and panel by panel telling of it sings too. I understand that some of the American comics audience found it too fragmented in the way it tells the story through glimpses and vignettes, rather than plodding from A to B to C and leadenly on to Z, but, well, sucks to be them; for those of us raised on the aforementioned British dark futures (and maybe a dash of Eurocomics SF), it's easy enough to follow, and so much more prismatic fun this way. A nod to Alan Moore's Sinister Ducks one minute, a beautiful line like Emma's "He unlocked the cages of our sordid, beautiful hearts" the next. And the images! Giving each era its own artist and thus a unified look was a masterstroke, and letting them play with decayed and recombined elements of the whole Marvel toybox produces some wonderfully memorable moments. Though after AXE, I fear that, petulantly, my favourite may just have been the sodding Eternals getting dispatched in a single page. Still, not bad for a project which I remain fairly sure began life as the pun and/or typo Immoral X-Men before getting entirely out of hand. I particularly enjoyed the way it didn't go the obvious reset button route which has left so many of those previous dark future stories feeling faintly pointless, instead echoing back with real impact on the present.