Keith Giffen is listed as the co-creator of this property along with writer Shannon Eric Denton, and his influence in the title character is apparent. Giffen had a hand in the creation and popularizing of DC's Lobo, and I see a lot of that uber-violent character in Brother Bedlam. Think of this comic's hero as a a cross between Lobo, Todd McFarlane's Spawn and Garth Ennis's Jesse Custer, but it's the first one of those influences that is most pronounced in this book. The art by Matt Jacobs is certainly in keeping with that over-the-top tone, but there are visuals inconsistencies throughout the book as the various styles that influence the artist's efforts fight for dominance. If the uber-violent chaos of Lobo comics and the like entertain you, then Brother Bedlam will as well, but fans with an aversion for gratuitous carnage might want to steer clear.
A modest preacher finds himself the target of attack by the minions of a madman, and despite a seemingly unending barrage of bullets, he emerges unharmed and takes out his would-be assassins with extreme prejudice. Instinct and a pre-programmed pattenr of behavior leads him to discover that he's a memory-wiped, immortal champion for the Church whose main purpose is to prevent the Apocalypse. An ancient, evil rival has set into motion events leading to the end of the world, and the once simple preacher, now Brother Bedlam, gathers allies and weapons to prevent it.
Jacobs's approach to the art looks like an amalgam of the styles of Frank (Sin City) Miller and Sam (Ojo, The Maxx) Kieth, with a touch of Kevin (The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen) O'Neill. It's safe to guess from that description that the art is dark and over the top in nature, but the exaggerated style also makes for inconsistent visuals. The panel-to-panel flow is not strong at all, and those confusing visuals interrupt the story at several junctures. Furthermore, I was disappointed that there was so little different in design between the title character and Lazarus, the equally buff and resilient villain.
Perhaps the most irksome aspect of the actual story in this book is the fact that plot devices and allies come from out of nowhere in the final scene. Had Denton planted the seeds for the mystical solution to the crisis early on in the book and made this more of a quest story, I might have been more interested in what was going on.
But I wasn't interested in what was going on, because all this story offered was one bullet-riddled, violence-laden scene after another. Nothing comes close to stopping or even hurting the hero, so there's no real tension in the violence and conflict. Despite the larger size of the one-shot, no room is made for any sort of character development. That's too bad, as there's some great potential in exploring the conflict between the memory-wiped Brother Matthew, a kind preacher who loves his fellow man, and Brother Bedlam, the angry, violent machine designed to kill and destroy. How does a peaceful, ethical man accept a just yet brutal side of himself that's been hidden from his own conscious mind? Sadly, the question goes unanswered and even unacknowledged. 3/10
