After a rather repetitive but visually satisfying story arc by David Mack, Brian Michael Bendis and Alex Maleev return to pick up where they left things off a few months ago. It seems to me that this story -- which began so long ago with the "Underboss" story arc -- is one of the most ambitious stories unfolding under the Marvel Comics banner these days. There's a real sense of change in the title character, and in the world around him. Here, the writer reinforces the notion that those changes have ripple effects far beyond the core cast of characters here.
It's been a couple of months since Daredevil took the Kingpin down once and for all, and the weeks that followed that climactic confrontation saw the Hell's Kitchen hero transform from a champion of the neighborhood to its commander. A flurry of fists and fear has driven all of the crime out of the Kitchen, turning it into a seeming utopia in the middle of New York City. The hero's unconventional and initialy vicious approach turns a number of heads. Politicians approach him in public, while Matt Murdock's onetime allies ask for a private meeting, sans colorful garb.
It's a treat to see Maleev's art once again. Mack's unconventional, multimedia collages were great, but they got kind of old after a few issues. Maleev brings incredible depth and realism to the book, but there's a gritty, noir quality to be found in his work as well. The flashback sequences are especially eye-catching, as the backgrounds establish a dream-like (or nightmare-like, as is the case in the two-page spread) atmosphere. I love how Maleev uses shadow to hide the title character's face away from the rest of the world. It brings an air of mystery and unpredictability to the character, but it also demonstrates just how isolated he is from the world he now controls.
There are two sequences in this issue that really make it stand out. The fist is Ben Urich's simple but enlightening examination on the government's inadvertent creation of organized crime back eight decades ago or more. The reality of the history he recounts brings reality to this story and to the unusual and remarkable change in Matt Murdock's life.
The other powerful sequence is Murdock's tense conversation with his onetime costumed colleagues. What makes the sequence so engrossing is that it's easy to see the validity both sides' arguments. Bendis explores theoretical morality versus the practical, and it makes for a fascinating philosophical conflict. One of my favorite elements in the scene is Peter Parker's presence, not Spider-Man's. The character's awkwardness about acting as Spidey without the mask offers much needed comic relief and some insight into the character and how his mask is something of a crutch. Perhaps we're meant to notice that Matt has cast off his crutch with an eye to the bigger picture.
