Crime stories are ones I whole-heartedly embrace these days. Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark offered a rich, character-based story in Scene of the Crime a few years ago, and they continue to impress today with Gotham Central. Brian Azzarello and Eduardo Risso take their readers into the dark corners of the world that we try to pretend aren't there in 100 Bullets. Judd Winick grabs our attention in Caper by exploring the crime/mob genre through an unconventional filters of Jewish culture and a historical setting. Well-realized characters, a twisted sense of humor and mature storytelling make for a unique and stereotype-smashing story.
After exacting their own cold brand of street justice following their father's death, Jacob and Izzy Weiss discover they have a talent for violence, and that brings them to the attention of San Francisco crimelord Boss Cohen. It's 1906, and Izzy has his hands full. In addition to his rounds around the city, strong-arming those who owe money to Cohen, Izzy must contend with his younger brother's lack of judgment and growing aggression, and a friend -- whose wife he happens to be sleeping with -- is about to make a mistake that's not just bad for him, but for the precarious balance of the crime scene in the bay area.
I adored Dalrymple's surreal storytelling and designs in Pop Gun War, and the same stark, gritty quality to be found in that book made its way here. Though the twisted and supernatural elements aren't to be found in Caper, the dark and mature storytelling makes the artist an ideal choice for bringing this early 20-century tale of crime and culture to life. His work here reminds me of the styles of Guy (The Marquis) Davis and John (Punisher) McCrea. Major's colors reinforce a depressed, dirty tone throughout the book, and I like how he makes the red of blood pop against the muted colors that dominate the book.
When one thinks of crime/mob stories and Jewish characters, the image of a snivelling lawyer or accountant comes to mind. Winick shatters that stereotype of the sycophant to an Italian master here. The bruisers here, the greedy kingpin, the ambitious but incompetent wannabe mobster... they're all Jewish. Winick explores the culture -- not the faith -- here, and somehow, by making these ugly characters Jewish, the writer seems to empower the people and their heritage by looking beyond the stereotypes.
Though Jacob is clearly our chief protagonist here, I'm impressed to discover that the story features no heroes. This is about people who do ugly things for ugly reasons. There are only varying degrees of guilt here. Jake is guided by his own moral code, sure, and he's clever and even compassionate in his own way. Nevertheless, he does bad things to people, and he doesn't have the luxury of the righteousness that marks his and Izzy's first killing.
