Back in the 1980s, Marvel debuted its New Universe line (which eventually flopped), but my favorite title as a kid from that imprint was a 12-issue series entitled Nightmask. Among that little title's claims to fame were the debuts of artists Michael (JSA) Bair and Mark (Ultimate Spider-Man) Bagley. The premise was a super-hero who could enter the dreams of others in order to help them through their problems, though the book often took a more supernatural tone than that. With Night Mary, creators Rick Remender and Kieron Dwyer take a similar concept, but the super-hero trimmings are cast aside. The result is a little more mature and thoughtful. The art is stunning, and the characterization is strong. Kudos to IDW for once again bringing an unusual, dark and entertaining new property to a wider audience in a high-caliber format.
Mary Specter used to a typical college student, but no longer. Her professor father has put her talent for lucid dreaming to good use by projecting her consciousness into the dreams of others in order to help them find meaning in the imagery and get to the root of emotional problems. Things haven't always worked out well, though, and Mary's feeling a bit trepidatious after a recent incident. She refuses to quit, as there's a personal reason she and her father are conducting this research.
Dwyer demonstrates the broad range of which he is capable as an artist here. There's a softer tone at play here than what he brought to bear on Remains, for example, but there's still a consistency of style that shines through. I love Dwyer's use of color here to convey extreme circumstances, be it the dreamworld of a client (as pictured in the opening scene and on the cover) or a horrific discovery later on in the waking world. There's a starker, grittier quality to be found in the black-and-white everyday scenes that reinforces the title character's sadness, desperation and sense of being lost.
The monsters in Nightmask were wraiths and ghosts that plagued the living, but in Night Mary, the monsters are one's own subconscious, the horrors that the mind is capable of and the tragedy that can arise as a result. Maybe something more elaborate or even supernatural may arise as this plot develops, but for now, there's a nicely grounded and plausible tone to the story.
Ultimately, what makes the book work so well isn't the dream-walking concept, but the central character. Mary is desperately trying to help people while living in fear of hurting them. She also fears letting her father down and giving up on her mother. She has the weight of the world on her shoulders, and it shows, not only visually but in how she tenuously holds onto her sanity. We get a glimpse of a grounded, normal girl in the coffee-shop scene, but in the end, Mary is defined by her pain and her responsibilities, unaware that she has abandoned one of those responsibilities: the one to herself. 8/10
