Review: Birds of Prey Vol. 1: Megadeath trade paperback (DC Comics)

Two seminal DC Comics series are back — Birds of Prey, in the Dawn of DC era, and Secret Six, with a miniseries forthcoming as part of DC All In. Both of these, notably, were Gail Simone high points; Birds struggled whenever Simone wasn’t at the helm and even Simone’s own second shot at Secret Six didn’t rise to the superlative level of her first. So each of these have sizable shoes to fill.

Had I known more about writer Kelly Thompson’s work for the Marvelous competition and elsewhere, particularly her collaboration with artist Leonardo Romero on Hawkeye, I might not have been concerned. Not only is Thompson’s Birds of Prey Vol. 1: Megadeath the best that Birds has been since the Simone days, it’s also a visual masterpiece. Between colorist Jordie Bellaire’s brilliant watercolor effects, which get more confidently distressed as the book goes on, and Romero’s simply sketched figures, at times positively Kirby-esque, the book looks like something out of one of the classic ages of comics. It doesn’t make a lot of sense for the thoroughly modern plot, but wow does it distinguish these pages.

Equally, in a Birds story that’s something of a heist, that sees the Birds mildly on the wrong side of the law and Black Canary Dinah Lance using a grawlix in almost every chapter, there is something Secret Six-esque about this book. I hold out hope for when Nicole Maines resurrects the real thing, but in the meantime Thompson’s Birds of Prey does well by both of Simone’s series.

[Review contains spoilers]

We know there’s a population of DC heroes who are not, for instance, Suicide Squad-level villains, but don’t have as much hesitation to get their hands dirty as a Superman or a Batman. In Thompson’s Birds, there’s a knock-on effect; Black Canary has been Justice Leaguer but also portrayed as a super-spy, a role she takes here, and out of loyalty so does Batgirl Cassandra Cain and so does Big Barda. At the point Harley Quinn is also involved and they’re all sneaking on to Themyscira with help from King Shark, there’s a sense of this iteration of the Birds as a covert group even as they believe themselves to be rescuing an imprisoned friend. This has not wholly, usually been the positioning of the Birds, though I’m not inclined to complain about a well-written anti-hero title.

[See the latest DC trade solicitations.]

Canary is emboldened to rescue her adopted sister Sin from the Amazons on the say-so of time-traveler Meridian. Clearly my attempt to shield myself from spoilers is working a little, because I had no idea DC had introduced a future version of Gotham Academy’s Maps Mizoguchi(!) to the Birds, so that was an impressive surprise. It’s specious in the story; obviously I believe Maps because it’s Maps, though I’m not sure why Black Canary would — and coincidentally, unfortunately, just after the Green Arrow title dealt with its own fake-ish time traveler. There’s a casual agreeableness to Thompson’s Birds — Batgirl and Barda are both in with little trouble, everybody believes Maps' outrageous claims — that maybe ventures into Dawn of DC’s extreme drama avoidance, but I prefer it over iterations like in the New 52 where the Birds couldn’t completely trust one another.

Thompson’s Birds works because it’s kicky and funny and interesting — where else would we see the Birds of Prey ride into Themyscira in the belly of a megalodon¹ or Zealot putting worms in her open veins to magically prevent her swords from killing anyone? At the same time, the very root of this involves Canary’s relationship with Sin, a character I believe we haven’t seen on the page in nearly two decades. Thompson does an OK job showing us a bit of Canary and Sin together over the years, but a lot is left for the reader to remember — who Sin even is, why the League of Assassins are after her, how Barda knows her, and so on.

The covers of Birds of Prey by Romero and Bellaire show increasing, intentional wear as the book goes on — faux rips and tears, faded stickers, moire patterns, and so on. Again, I can’t quite answer why this particular book is getting this treatment, though the aesthetic dovetails well with the natural tendencies of Romero’s art. In the fourth issue, where Barda goes no-holds-barred against Wonder Woman, Romero makes pointed use of Kirby dots, and indeed his Barda — and by association, everything else — is very much to Kirby’s model. (Points too for Romero’s distinctly weird Batgirl Cassandra, with ears like antenna on her head.)

It makes for a book that should appeal to a more discerning set of readers. Equally, the art also devoutly avoids the kind of sensationalizing that Birds, despite its female-forward themes, has often been guilty of. Incongruously, the book’s fifth chapter is drawn and colored by Arist Deyn, with super-stylized art and, more glaringly, bright, almost fluorescent colors; it’s akin to the jarring sense of turning the lights on in a dark room. I’m not quite sure why Deyn was the choice for guest artist, but I was pleased to see, with Romero leaving after this volume, that a tonally similar artist is coming on, Javier Pina, and not someone who’d simply make Birds of Prey look like everything else on the stands.

We’re in one of those weird eras where writers have a tendency to come and go, but I just checked and Kelly Thompson’s still on Birds of Prey at least as far out as the DC solicitations go right now. (Art’s by Sami Basri, though, who’s neither Leonardo Romero nor Javier Pina, but we’ll talk about that when we get to it.) Point being, Birds of Prey Vol. 1: Megadeath is a strong new start for this team and I’m glad Thompson’s sticking with it (this is also a good sign for Thompson’s Absolute Wonder Woman); hopefully the art will somehow keep up.

[Includes original and variant covers]

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1. Ron Funches' charming portrayal is very strong in Thompson’s writing of King Shark, the first time I can recall the Harley Quinn cartoon leaking over into the comics.  ↩︎

Rating 3.0