On the surface, it's the over-the-top violence that seems like this issue's biggest attention-grabber. Ellis and Hamner manage to bring a cool, cinematic vision of violence to this book while at the same time maintaining a brutal and shocking quality that drives home the horrific side of it. But what's really intense and riveting about this issue is the dialogue. Until now, this has been a somewhat quiet story, despite its more explosive moments. Here, a war of words matches the fiery intensity of the gunshots and demolitions that are found at the tale's periphery. The first two issues of this limited series were quite strong, but they pale in comparison to the cynicism and psychological warfare at the heart of this conclusion.
While the CIA scours Washington, D.C., for any sign of Paul Moses, the retired government approaches the agency's headquarters in Langley, Virginia, planning a meticulous -- though loud -- assault on the stronghold of American intelligence. The new CIA director who sets these events into motion calls for Moses's head and threatens the life of the assassin's family, but Moses quickly demonstrates what sets him apart from the fatcat political appointee.
Hamner's work here reminds me a great deal of Steve Dillon's approach with the more violent moments in Preacher. Hamner's own style still shines through clearly, but there's a freeze-frame, almost matter-of-fact tone in the depiction of Moses's brutal but skilled strikes on personnel in and around CIA headquarters. Hamner's thick linework brings a harsh tone to the main character, and I love how the bright red of the blood contrasts against Self's more muted tones throughout the book.
Ellis has choreographed a stunning sequence of action, explosions and murder in this issue. What's most impressive about Moses's assault on Langley is how the brutality of his progress is tempered by the sheer intellect and skill behind it. It's not just the element of surprise and the intensity of the attack that enables him entry, but his awareness of his enemy's weaknesses and his calm and methodical implementation of the plan. Of course, Ellis is wise enough to let the reader see it for himself rather than spell it out in the dialogue.
No, the dialogue is reserved for more philosophical notions, albeit extreme ones. Moses's disgust with the state of the bureaucracy that sucked him back into his old life really says a lot about the inherent machismo in the character. I also love Moses's recognition of what he is. He doesn't see himself as a hero of the story, or as the victim. He knows he's the bad guy. It's a role someone had to fill -- might as well be him -- and had everyone played by the rules, that would have worked out fine. The Big Bad Wolf would have retired to the woods, never to be heard from again.
Given the global political climate in the last couple of years, I saw Moses's angry diatribe to be representative of something else. Here, we have a killer, trained by the United States, who is antagonized by his creator to wreak unwanted havoc. I can't help but think that Moses represents terrorist factions -- ones that were backed by the U.S. at one time -- that continue to seek the implosion of American society today. The story in Red is far more extreme, of course, but that subtext nevertheless spoke out to me.
