Thundergirls #3
Dayne Adams, Chris Dawson, LeBeau L. Underwood, Sonny Andreotte, M.A., Midnight Oil, Scott Dervish & Adams
Reviewed by Darren Hick

There are a lot of failed theories cluttering up the history of aesthetics. Just the same, however ridiculous some of them might seem to us today, a good few of them not only had their 15 minutes of fame, but managed to garner large groups of rather dedicated followers. One such theory of yesteryear was unique in its attempt to apply the principles of mechanics to art. The idea was this: that if one were to isolate the elements of a form that made mere art "good art" while eliminating those that were incidental or detrimental to that goal, one could achieve true greatness. Now, while these aesthetes of yesteryear got about as close to isolating the imitable qualities of great art as alchemists did to unlocking the secrets of transmogrification, it's doubtful the elusive formula consisted of mummies, space travel and women's wrestling. But I suppose I have to give Dayne Adams and crew their due for exhausting the possibilities of this ancient theory. Meditate on that for a moment -- you're not going to find too many statements more complimentary than that in this review.

Now, first off, I have no personal problem with women's wrestling. Even outside the mud variety. But Nascar comics failed, baseball comics failed -- what ever possessed someone that women's wrestling was the one sure-fire niche hitherto overlooked in the comics industry?

I would be perfectly willing to admit that on this basis alone, a book does not necessarily fail as art. For that, it needs the addition of hackneyed scripting, dismal plotting, and, at best, mediocre drafting. But I digress... My transparent rhetoric once again threatens to overtake my writing.

In Dayne's opening story, "Show Me the Mummy," we are introduced to real-life female wrestler Cheryl Rusa. From there, it's a fairly simple recipe: Invited (for a tidy sum) to the province of Es-Habek, Ms. Rusa quickly falls into a slippery slope of political intrigue and mystical Egyptian shenanigans. Imagine Stargate without all of the expensive special effects. Add a couple Bond Girls. Stir constantly. Strain out any realistic sounding dialogue. Chill until set. I wouldn't dare give away the ending.

The art in this opening story is, well, equivalent to the writing. Women's wrestling comics have, it needs be said, been done before. But these were by Jaime Hernandez (Whoa, Nellie), whose brush could turn rust to gold. The man could make comics about she-male bowling look appealing. Chris Dawson and LeBeau L. Underwood are not quite ready to be adopted into the Clan Hernandi. Dawson's pencils are of that grew-up-with-Liefeld generation, and he seems to have neglected to study anatomy or perspective, preferring, instead, to concentrate on those ever-so-endearing unnecessary brushstrokes (or, more likely, penstrokes) ostensibly about accentuating form, realistically about attempting to distract the eye from more fundamental drafting errors. Does Dawson have potential? Certainly. But the sooner he abandons the attempt to mimic the style of 2nd-Generation Liefelds (and the odd bit of Erik Larsen) and begin to study the fundamentals of art, the sooner he will approach the realization of this potential.

I would have criticized Underwood here, as well, until I realized that he worked in a completely different style inking another's pencils in the following story, "Ring Of Vampires: Blood Will Tell." Where Dawson was a failed Liefeld follower, penciler Sonny Andreotte is more of a failed Timothy Bradstreet imitator. Again, the fundamentals are the problem here, and we all know what the Bible said about building a house on sand. Where Androette's linework is immediately more appealing than Dawson's, it does not make up for his other failings. His characters are perpetually stuff, and his sense of anatomy is about as accurate as Dawson's. The fact that the story is, until the last two pages, entirely without backgrounds makes a judgment of Androette's sense of perspective more difficult to gauge. If the design of the cathedral on the final and penultimate pages is Androette's own (as opposed to lifted from another source directly), I would argue that his sense of perspective is quite good. If not, then the sense of perspective displayed throughout the rest of the story is flawed, at best. The story, meanwhile, is neither better nor worse than "Show Me the Mummy." But, this time, instead of lush wrestlers and mummies, it's lush Kung-Fu vampires. Again, formula.

The one saving grace of ThunderGirls is M.A.'s five-page story, "The Misadventures of Linda the Wrestler." While the story itself is not incredibly strong, M.A.'s cartoony style is surprisingly impressive (surprisingly, that is, when compared with the rest of this volume). While his range seems limited, he has a strong grasp of the visual narrative, if not of plotting. With a strong grasp of flow and timing, as well as of character design, M.A.'s work has an immediate appeal. There's a bit of Pete Bagge showing through, but the art is definitely M.A.'s own. Subject matter aside, it's a strong work, though I'd like to see M.A.'s art applied to another writer's scripting. So long as that writer isn't Dayne Adams, M.A. has a shot.

So, just as there are failed theories cluttering up the history of aesthetics, so there are failed volumes cluttering up my office. Is ThunderGirls a disappointment? Not particularly. As I indicated above, I didn't give the idea much merit to begin with. Was it a worthwhile experiment? Certainly. Is it worth another attempt? I'd have to be convinced.

ThunderGirls #1-3 are available for $3.00 a pop inside the U.S., $5.00 each for foreign orders. Check, money order, VISA or Mastercard accepted. PIN! & Ink, P.O. Box 923, Moravian Falls, NC, 28654. Check out the web site at http://www.ThunderGirls.com..