Ghost Rider #1. Again.
Before sitting down to write this review, I thought about the title character and why the property has persisted over the years. It's kind of odd, really, because in many ways, it shouldn't have. Ghost Rider is a creature of the 1970s, when stuntmen and Easy Rider were icons of pop culture. Nobody really cares about the Knievels anymore, and while choppers are still cool, they're also a symbol of the American Midlife Crisis. So why has Ghost Rider persisted as a fan favorite, sparking resurrection after resurrection of comics titles to bring his/its adventures to life? I suppose it's the vision of a flaming skeleton clad in leather and riding a bike.
Marvel has wisely paired the property with a writer whose sensibilities certainly fall in line with its infernal nature, but I was surprised that about two thirds of this book boasts a voice that reminded me of a different European comics scribe. Nevertheless, Ennis has definitely put his trademark stamp on the character, but he purposefully obfuscates the plot. Basically, this issue serves as scaffolding; the construction of the real story has yet to begin.
An angel has made a terrible mistake, and it threatens to loose the infinite hordes of Hell on Earth, so he seeks the advice of one of his divine brethren. He learns of a being imbued with the power of hellfire but not aligned with Lucifer that can help prevent catastrophe and cover his winged butt. That creature is the Ghost Rider, but there's a problem: he's being tormented in the pits of Hell and must be rescued. Meanwhile, two opposing forces -- an angel and a demon -- converge on the focal point of the impending disaster, located in the heart of Texas.
I can see why Clayton Crain is being held up as something special. His art is richly detailed and full of energy... but it achieves those traits to a fault. It's not that his work here is flawed, though; it's just a poor match to Ennis's script. Crain's detailed work is too textured, too photorealistic, and Ennis's script calls for something simpler and more expressive. Ennis's vision was matched by the artistic style of Steve Dillon on Preacher, for example, but the synnergy just isn't here. Crain's McFarlane influences show through here, but when they do, it's a bit jarring. The huge eyeballs of the kid in the Texas diner, for example, are distracting, and they make the kid seem less human and vulnerable.
Much of this issue is made up of the conversation between two angels in New York City. What struck me the most about their dialogue exchanges and the coldness of their treatment of individual humans is that it all came off as something Neil Gaiman might have written. We've seen this sort of thing from Ennis before as well, in Hellblazer and Preacher, but it's a Gaiman trademark too (see Sandman and Murder Mysteries). As a result, it read as being a little too familiar, but again, the angels' callous dealings with humanity made for some nice horror writing.
Of course, it wouln't be an Ennis horror comic if there weren't a low-brow moment, and while it was typical of his writing, I must admit it was amusing as well. Crain's artwork didn't convey the moment as clearly as I might have liked, though. Overall, Ennis offers an accessible script that informs new readers as to what the Ghost Rider is all about, and at the same time, it pokes fun at the property's dated origins. 6/10
