Mark Millar's final issue of Wolverine is easily his strongest, and while the plot is predictable and lacking in subtlety, it more than makes up for it in atmosphere and resonance. The key to the strength of the issue is that Millar doesn't use Wolverine to tell another super-hero story, or one of espionage or action. Instead, he essentially has a ghost story to offer, a story that puts one in mind of the EC horror comics of yesteryear. Kaare Andrews, known for his moody, photorealistic covers, employs a simpler line art approach to bring a dark, mature tale to life.
In the middle of the Second World War, a young German officer snatches an opportunity to impress his superiors by taking over an inefficient concentration camp, intent on turning it around on the backs of the prisoners. But one defiant prisoner in particular catches his eye, and he opts to make an example of him. To the officer's horror, though, he's forced to make that example over and over and over again, as the silent, nameless prisoner keeps turning up. He never dies, no matter what the camp commandant and his men thrown at him. Eventually, the prisoner says he's ready to sit down and meet, and the officer is ready to get answers, at any cost.
Just as he did on a Spider-Man/Doctor Octopus project last year, Andrews employs a simpler style to tell this story, but once again, he demonstrates his versatility by offering a slightly different approach again. The figures are a bit slicker in tone, and he emplos a less exaggerated style on this comic. The characters are immersed in inky darkness, and that's in keeping with the grisly and eerie tone of the circumstances and story. Villarrubia brings an appropriately gritty look to the book with his colors, but to be honest, I'm curious to see if the story would work better as a black-and-white book (which we'll see in a variant edition to be released this week as well).
The reader can see where the story's headed from the first page. Millar's premise is transparent, but to my surprise, it doesn't hinder the story much at all. It's a shame, though, because he didn't need to telegraph things so much so early on. Keeping the fate of the previous commandant a secret for a while would have added a bit more suspense, for example.
In this issue -- the final one of his run on the title -- Millar shares some insight into the creative process behind this WWII story, and it serves another purpose as well: it's a tribute to the late Will Eisner. In a brief essay, Millar tells of an encounter with Eisner at a comic convention and how a suggestion from the legendary industry trailblazer ended up playing a key part in the crafting of the story. It's a fitting tribute, but of greater interest was a glimpse behind the curtain. I always appreciate being allowed to understand the process of storytelling, and this was a nice example of it. 8/10
