This stands out as the finest issue of the series to date... and for Catwoman, that's saying something. Brubaker explores the darkest corners of the title character's psyche, as well as that of her companion. It's a haunting, depressing tale, and despite the extreme lives these characters lead, it's surprisingly easy to see oneself in Selina and/or Slam Bradley. Pulido's artwork is in keeping with the atmosphere and look established by Darwyn Cooke from the start, but his own unique style shines through as well. Though it addresses ongoing subplots, this is a thoroughly accessible issue, and those who haven't hopped on board for this book would be well advised to do so with this issue.
Selina Kyle is being haunted by dreams... pleasant dreams, but the nightmare arrive when she awakens to find that her sister is no longer by her side. Slam Bradley's having a rough go of it as well, but it's in the midst of a dream come true: he and Selina are together. Unfortunately and ironically, they've never been so apart before. As a result, Slam buries himself in a missing-persons case, the subject of which is a golddigging beauty whose older husband has hired Slam to track her down, if she's even still alive.
Pulido's art is more than a little reminiscent of the noir tone that Cooke established in the Detective Comics backup series that launched this title. Pulido doesn't just ape his predecessor, though. No, the artwork here boasts an even simpler tone that's quite expressive... a key element in a story that derives its conflicts from inner and emotional sources. The art strikes me as a cross between the styles of Cooke and Andi (Slow News Day Watson. Hollingsworth employs a powerful approach in the latter part of this issue as well. There are dramatic shifts in color. One scene is bathed in blues, and the next is replete with muted browns and yellows. Then he hits the reader with garish reds, and the shock adds to the impact of the scene.
The most powerful scene in the book is that featuring Holly and her balancing act on the fine line between sobriety and a renewed descent into addiction. Holly's scene is the briefest in the book, but it's the most striking. We've really come to care for Holly in this series, and now, it's as though she's not only letting herself and Selina down, but the audience as well. And I don't say that as a criticism, but as praise for the emotional investment Brubaker has fostered in the reader.
Slam's and Catwoman's desperate attempts to wash away their dark feelings in sex rings true as well. They feel empty, and each is trying to fill him or herself up with touch, pleasure and the illusion of love. They're caught in a cycle of pretense, and it's a sad scene. Brubaker has tranformed this book into an urban tragedy, and it stands out as remarkable, emotionally engaging storytelling.
