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Stray Bullets (Single Issues) #17-20
The Collected Stray Bullets, Vol. 5
Comic book. Black and white interior art. Orson goes to a party at Rose's.
152 pages, Paperback
First published July 18, 2001
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
August 24, 2018
Galloping past the asylum itself and long-jumping finally into it’s pantathaletic partition, antelopes themselves would be mesmerized by the dexterity of Lapham’s mind: too bad it never goes anywhere however. Departing further from the established orbit of the established Noir system, a purer approach to crime becomes merely encrusted and draped over with the ephemera and tints and tones and expressions of film-noir with style trumping all else. An artistic vision run amok – or a Jason Pollakesque expression of art? We’ll have to discuss before we decide.
Like a million bizarre fantasies of yours truly, I wish I could get into the head of a (most-likely) upper-middle class kid in the mid-late 90’s, especially a dude/tte that had not only finished this spate of comics (collected and reviewed here: for your pleasure) but enjoyed them as well. What propelled their interest? What was their cultural climate like?
Contemporaneously, Pulp Fiction had been established and mined beyond belief here and yet Stray Bullets kept on chuggin’. With a degree of violence matching and then exceeding to match that of another contemporaneous peer (The Matrix) enough bullets are rained and enough pints of blood are spilled to match the soon to be war fueled (Post-9/11) era. But the question remains, no matter how much it did, or was going to match the premonitions of the future (whilst excavating the very past that informed it) what granted this (ostensibly) pimple-faced teenager fueled comic the capacity for cult favorite?
Why? Because even retroactively, Stray Bullets glints with the shine of just enough of its gems to cover its innumerably hideous flaws. A healthily applied sheen of nostalgia, will penetrate the heart of nigh almost the most bitter of curmudgeon/cynic/nihilist. With these facts in mind, the stylistic make-up of Stray Bullets well overshadows the flaws and mistakes of the series overall. Favoring energy over something more pre-planned – the meanings and motives and decisions made within become more pleasing to the eye in their own way. With each touch of the page, both are sated but, which more (so)?
Does it matter? Yes, it does actually. Without any hope of departing past the 3 star mark, another edition of the Stray Bullets series lies swaddled in its crib. The cries of a dinky child might equalize the blinking and nagging lights of the latest dooty-doo-doo* but, once the initial provocation has died down the nagging irritations are still there. This leaves Lapham’s late 90’s fictional-faux-80’s-noirish crime/noir hybrid, ossified unto its own vision (for better and for worse).
*Ultimately giving up attention to the stories themselves and their paper-thin degrees of cohesion, paying far more attention to the action and flow will result in a far more enjoyable reading experience (author’s intention?). In either case, with an expanded field of vision that has, finally exceeded the unitary creative stream of Pulp Fiction, Lapham has incorporated semi-substantial references from previous cultural well-known-known-known’s including: Sin City, Twilight Zone, and even The Big Lebowski just to name a few. Through a stylistic process that can be described as emergently multivariate, the story itself - while remaining idiosyncratically static, has freshened its veneer with some much needed instruction(s) from the past.
Like a million bizarre fantasies of yours truly, I wish I could get into the head of a (most-likely) upper-middle class kid in the mid-late 90’s, especially a dude/tte that had not only finished this spate of comics (collected and reviewed here: for your pleasure) but enjoyed them as well. What propelled their interest? What was their cultural climate like?
Contemporaneously, Pulp Fiction had been established and mined beyond belief here and yet Stray Bullets kept on chuggin’. With a degree of violence matching and then exceeding to match that of another contemporaneous peer (The Matrix) enough bullets are rained and enough pints of blood are spilled to match the soon to be war fueled (Post-9/11) era. But the question remains, no matter how much it did, or was going to match the premonitions of the future (whilst excavating the very past that informed it) what granted this (ostensibly) pimple-faced teenager fueled comic the capacity for cult favorite?
Why? Because even retroactively, Stray Bullets glints with the shine of just enough of its gems to cover its innumerably hideous flaws. A healthily applied sheen of nostalgia, will penetrate the heart of nigh almost the most bitter of curmudgeon/cynic/nihilist. With these facts in mind, the stylistic make-up of Stray Bullets well overshadows the flaws and mistakes of the series overall. Favoring energy over something more pre-planned – the meanings and motives and decisions made within become more pleasing to the eye in their own way. With each touch of the page, both are sated but, which more (so)?
Does it matter? Yes, it does actually. Without any hope of departing past the 3 star mark, another edition of the Stray Bullets series lies swaddled in its crib. The cries of a dinky child might equalize the blinking and nagging lights of the latest dooty-doo-doo* but, once the initial provocation has died down the nagging irritations are still there. This leaves Lapham’s late 90’s fictional-faux-80’s-noirish crime/noir hybrid, ossified unto its own vision (for better and for worse).
*Ultimately giving up attention to the stories themselves and their paper-thin degrees of cohesion, paying far more attention to the action and flow will result in a far more enjoyable reading experience (author’s intention?). In either case, with an expanded field of vision that has, finally exceeded the unitary creative stream of Pulp Fiction, Lapham has incorporated semi-substantial references from previous cultural well-known-known-known’s including: Sin City, Twilight Zone, and even The Big Lebowski just to name a few. Through a stylistic process that can be described as emergently multivariate, the story itself - while remaining idiosyncratically static, has freshened its veneer with some much needed instruction(s) from the past.
March 20, 2018
Lapham's adherence to an 8-panel grid really grounds the world of Stray Bullets in a clear, concise reality. He creates a very voyeuristic atmosphere, which is only enhanced by his great gift of dialogue and ability to draw extremely emotive characters. He doesn't waste time distracting you with fancy tricks - rather, he lets the depth of his characters pull you in, so that they can lodge themselves in your head, roll around with their sins and vices, and leave you feeling a little dirtier than you felt when you started reading.
As with past Stray Bullets volumes, you can find pieces where the stories overlap, if you look hard. But the real draw is the intensity and power of each stand-alone story, each one a powerful combination of noir and slice of life. And don't try to predict the endings, because Lapham will keep you guessing PAST the last page.
As with past Stray Bullets volumes, you can find pieces where the stories overlap, if you look hard. But the real draw is the intensity and power of each stand-alone story, each one a powerful combination of noir and slice of life. And don't try to predict the endings, because Lapham will keep you guessing PAST the last page.
December 10, 2019
Reading this comic feels like a chore right now. The lack of progress, the large cast and the independent stories aren't doing it for me. It's perfect if you're looking for anthologies, but it's not a match for me.
Women will get men into trouble all the time. When Ricky Fish winds up home drunk again, he brings a couple of his cop friends and loose women along. His wife tries to handle them, but is overwhelmed at first, then sympathetic to them.
Amy Racecar's job as a private investigator suits her hard-boiled attitude perfectly. I skipped her story because it didn't make any sense after I forgot who was who. Still, the story seemed ok. I guess.
Amelia is desperately looking for love, but can't seem to find it. She seduces men left and right, but none of them last long with her. Or is she a higher class prostitute? The story is confusing, but kinda fun.
The forth story isn't even properly finished. A guy and his mistress are followed by the geeky, but bulky Monster. The guy is a professor who is wanted for his supposed ability to deciyher a code for Monster's boss.
Women will get men into trouble all the time. When Ricky Fish winds up home drunk again, he brings a couple of his cop friends and loose women along. His wife tries to handle them, but is overwhelmed at first, then sympathetic to them.
Amy Racecar's job as a private investigator suits her hard-boiled attitude perfectly. I skipped her story because it didn't make any sense after I forgot who was who. Still, the story seemed ok. I guess.
Amelia is desperately looking for love, but can't seem to find it. She seduces men left and right, but none of them last long with her. Or is she a higher class prostitute? The story is confusing, but kinda fun.
The forth story isn't even properly finished. A guy and his mistress are followed by the geeky, but bulky Monster. The guy is a professor who is wanted for his supposed ability to deciyher a code for Monster's boss.
March 18, 2016
This volume reads like a complicated old school noir thriller
November 13, 2013
Great illustrations to match the thrilling noir.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews