Nightcrawlers #1: The Sword of Faith

This story was more readable and much more enjoyable than the entirety of Legion of X due to the fact that Spurrier is able to drop all pretense of working with or understanding well-developed characters and play, instead, with attributes, shuffling them around like cards in a tarot deck — or perhaps a high stakes poker game (and never mind that both usages sprung from the same root). Rather than the frustration of witnessing Spurrier completely misunderstand who Nightcrawler is (and the frustration of reading a take on the character that is as poorly written as anything Chuck Austen penned at his most misguided), we’re given a series of fascinating new characters that Spurrier can have his way with. And the fact that he chooses to set them on a course of mayhem and space adventure is pretty damned neat. 

Of course, since Spurrier seems to have an inherent disdain for faith as a concept, often portraying it as just another mind control tool used by authority to subjugate the unthinking (when faith often sets people at odds with superficial morality, as they seek something deeper and more carefully considered) and aligning it firmly with fanaticism when faith is the opposite of fanaticism, is eyerollingly frustrating. Fanaticism is, of course, violent overcompensation for a doubt that one feels they cannot admit. Fanaticism is, in other words, an absence of faith. 

Faith and doubt are, theologically speaking, engaged in a dance. They work together. Doubt causes faith to grow and change when it’s presented with a complex moral situation or the believer encounters new information. (I.e.: ‘oh no! Maybe the world didn’t really form in six days?’ ‘Oh, wait. That’s a metaphor about the creative process and a story to help ease the passage of dying. Cool.’ The essence of the belief remains but the trappings change to meet an evolving understanding of the world.) And faith provides balance by giving you something solid to stand on when the shifting risks overturning your world. By having the villain stand in for all religious leaders, and by having her manipulate her followers in such a (heh) sinister way, there’s no room within this world for any faith that isn’t totally rotten. It’s problematic, too, that Spurrier depicts people who are religious as basically being little more than puppets who can be shifted from one master to another. Vox Ignis calls the Nightkin free, but Spurrier writes them as sheep. His thesis appears to be that religion is always, always manipulative and controlling, and religious people are therefore, inherently, much stupider than enlightened atheists. It’s, as I’ve said before of his other forays into writing about people whose beliefs he does not share, deeply insulting. 

But, as I said, if readers focus on the holy heist aspect of the story, if they pay attention to the interesting hybrids (Wagnerine is amazing), the steampunk/futuristic trappings, and the ghoulish body horror, this is an incredibly fun ride. Nightcrawler himself seems to be set up to become a Lucifer/Prometheus figure. Sean’s dual nature also seems to be rich ground to till over the next two issues.

Paco Medina’s art is deeply engaging. His opening sequence in the gutted remnants of Strange’s former haunt is legitimately frightening and visually brilliant. Medina has a knack for capturing atmosphere, as well as an obvious delight in a good, visceral squelch as a claw tears through flesh. Jay David Ramos’ colors are appropriately dark, but never muddy. He brightens the world with the occasional spritz of arterial fluid or brimstone bamf.