Thank God.
Randy and I have been lamenting the loss of the clever and touching storytelling that Judd Winick used to hook readers on this title in the first place. Chuck Austen's stint as fill-in writer hurt the title, but Winick's return didn't bring with it a return to those funny and character-oriented stories. Until now. Pay no attention to the "Part 2 of 2" note on the cover. This brief story arc is thematically tied only. This is a self-contained issue that explores the notion that the Exiles have a lasting effect on the worlds they visit, the people whose lives they touch, and Winick accomplishes it by bringing a couple of the title characters back to a previous stop on their cosmic transit ride.
The Exiles' latest jump has split up the team, and Sunfire and Nocturne find themselves back on the world that was overrun by the techno-organic creatures known as the Vi-Locks. They soon discover their efforts the last time they were there were not in vain, and Sunfire in particular finds she has not been forgotten. Leaving her troubled past and curse trans-dimensional existence behind for a bit, Sunfire embraces the passion and wonder of a burgeoning relationship, giving Nocturne cause for concern.
The script here focuses on characterization, not action. It calls for a tender and even sexy style, but Calafiore's approach isn't one that fits the bill. The storytelling is clear here, and his depiction of the Vi-Locks is appropriately creepy. But when it comes to the emotion of the Sunfire/Spider-Girl relationship, his gritty and angular style falls short. A softer touch is called for here, and we get a hint of what's needed with Tom Feister and Tony Harris's cover.
Winick does something different with this story. He takes the characters back to a previous destination, and that expanded context brings a little something new to the title... something that's been sorely lacking in the book. I like the notion that the Exiles' involvement didn't provide a quick fix for a world of chaos. They didn't hit a cosmic reset button here.
He sells the Mariko/May connection with seeming ease. I like that the characters are gay, but the point isn't that they're gay. The story would have worked just as well with a more traditional, male-female dynamic. But the writer has a strong reputation for social diversity. He doesn't preach; there is no agenda at play here. The story is predictable; even the characters know how it's going to end. But it's the emotions that count here. We can see ourselves in Mariko and May. We've all wanted to clutch to the familiar things we know are going to go away. We've all wanted to live in the moment, and Winick posits that sometimes, that brief moment is still worth the pain that inevitably follows.
