The last time I cared at all about Sam & Twitch, it was because of the creators onboard the series, one of whom was known for his work on the crime thriller Torso. The more things change, the more things stay the same, as the other writer on Torso, Marc Andreyko, has taken up the reins of the two cops from the pages of Spawn, and suddenly I'm interested again. Of course, it doesn't hurt that the art is by one of my favorite artists, Scott Morse, making for a somewhat strange and considerably less mainstream take on the book. This first issue is a little weird and experimental, showing three narratives from different times that interact, and it's a slow burn introduction to the title.
Andreyko's story jumps right into the middle of things, which was a little jarring for a casual fan of the characters like myself. Last I knew, Twitch was divorced and reeling from the death of his girlfriend, but here he's married with a teenage daughter, and convicted of killing the man who murdered her. One thing is clear... it's as dangerous to be close to Twitch as it is to be involved with Daredevil. At any rate, while I had a little trouble getting into the status quo thanks to my scattered prior knowledge of the characters, it's probably much more accessible to those who didn't know the characters previously.
The narrative here took a few pages to get used to as well, but once I got used to it, I loved it. Andreyko and Morse are telling three stories at three time periods (present, past and further past) that interconnect, and I'm reminded of the indy feature Timecode, although it is considerably easier to keep track of. At any rate, a potentially confusing storytelling device instead becomes something inventive and eye-catching, as Andreyko hits similar story beats in all three stories to keep them feeling like parts of a three-layer story rather than three separate stories.
In terms of tone, the book is fairly dark, both in story and art. Even the brighter part of the story, showing Twitch's life before the tragedy that drives the plot, is somewhat dark and joyless. It's impressive that despite this dark tone, Andreyko and Morse still manage to keep the book entertaining rather than too dark. Fotos's color scheme separates out the stories effectively, and it also provides a nice splash of color to draw the eye. The bottom story runs almost entirely in grayscale, while the top has a green tinge and the middle a red and blue. The result is a colorful and attractive look that, while not quite as eye-popping as Morse's painted work on Elektra: Glimpse & Echo, maintains the darker tone of this story. And Andreyko's dialogue has a lot of the same cadence and sense of humor that can be found in Bendis's work.
Sam and Twitch are not characters I have a particular fondness for, but somehow McFarlane always seems to lure me in thanks to my fondness for the creators. This one is notable for the rare but always enjoyable color artwork by Scott Morse and equally rare and always enjoyable writing from underrated creator Marc Andreyko. Those seeking a dark take on cops, with more personality than focus on the procedure, might want to give this one a look.
