"Oh perfect, another Dr. Doom origin book."
That was my attitude going in as I picked up to read this comic book for review. Though curious what writer Ed Brubaker might offer, I was pretty much resigned to the fact that I wasn't going to find anything new in this book. Boy, was I wrong. Brubaker brings a harsher, darker and oddly more grounded edge to the title character, making for a surprisingly riveting read. Ultimately, Doom's story isn't about a growing ego or thrist for power, but one of grief, and that's something that allows the reader to connect with the unlikely figure. Pablo Raimondi offers up the best work I've seen from the artist to date, and Brubaker's shifting narrative structure establishes a realistic tone quite effectively.
Dr. Victor Von Doom, feared ruler of Latveria, grants an interview for a story about his lifetime, and as with any story, it opens at the beginning. Doom claims he was always special, able to remember not only his infancy but feelings of being in the womb. He also fondly remembers his mother, and how her dabbling in black magic cost her gypsy tribe its safety and her life. Anger and coldness grew in Victor's heart as a result, even as a toddler. Though the dark cloud that hung over the child distanced him from the rest of his tribe, Doom grew to be a feared leader and an inventive protector... until opportunity came knocking.
Raimondi's work on this comic reminds me of the styles of such artists as Mike (Fantastic Four) McKone and even Bryan (Ultimates 2) Hitch at times. Brubaker pens a powerful scene involving Victor and his father's flight from danger, but it's Raimondi's art that makes the chilling and horrific climax of the scene really come to life. The artist also distiguishes between the main narrative and the video asides from peripheral characters quite well, maintaining an important clarity in the storytelling. The colors are bright, but at the same time, Reber's work doesn't intrude on or interfere with the more mature, darker atmosphere that's key to the story.
One of the most important scenes in this issue is Doom's mother's funeral. It serves two purposes. It humanizes the main character, as the reader sympathizes with his grief and his anger at the disrespect that's shown to the woman who cared for him. But at the same time, it's easy to relate to the gypsies' fear and concerns about the child's articulate threats. The scene achieves two disparate purposes, and that makes for a more fascinating central character.
Perhaps the strongest scene in the book is the murder toward the end of the issue. It makes Doom's sudden shift in priorities seem far more logical, and more importantly, it makes him seem more human. One would think events would result in the reader loathing the character, but it actually elicits some sympathy once again. It's clear at that point that he's not the pillar of strength he believes himself to be. He remains a fragile child, and perhaps he will always remain so. 8/10
