Reviewer: Jimmy Lin
Script: Warren Ellis
Art: J. H. Williams
Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth in search of the perfect cappuccino and when dirty plaid was becoming a fashion statement, Warren Ellis perfected the anti-hero protagonist. In Lazarus Churchyard, Ellis created a dynamite character/setting combination – a semi-ethical amoral bastard in a dark, seedy underworld. This is a pattern that would see various incarnations over the years – The Authority, Transmetropolitan, and the reworked Stormwatch, to name a few. In Desolation Jones, Ellis brings us some more of the same-old, same-old, and while it ain’t bad, it certainly ain’t turnin’ my crank.
Desolation Jones is a retired MI6 agent in LA working as a spook-for-hire amongst the city of angel’s spook-filled underground. He’s hired by a retired army colonel to recover “the holy grail of cinematic filth,” a collection of Hitler porn (really). We meet Jones’ associates, all of whom are ex-intel suffering from various top-secret treatments, and watch as Jones takes his first steps into solving this particular case. It’s in a store run by pornoisseur Filthy Sanchez that we learn about Jones’ particular work-related trauma: the lone survivor of the Desolation Test, he was tortured 24/7 for a year. This left him incapable of feeling pain, but more importantly, it gave him the cynical worldview necessary to kick ass, take names, and say tough, witty things.
It’s typical Ellis with a somewhat noir-ish slant, and while the writing retains its sharp, edgy flavor, it’s as if Ellis is too conscious of the tricks he’s using. Desolation Jones #1 is a by-the-numbers story, and you can almost see Ellis marking off a checklist at the typewriter. Let’s see – mad bastard, interesting philosophical observation, witty bad-assery, check, check, and check. What’s missing? Oh yeah, a sci-fi bit with a twist.
JH Williams III penciled and inked this issue, and while I loved his work on Promethea, it’s just not hitting me here. Maybe it’s the inking, but the art seems wooden and static. His creepy characters have a wonderful unsettling quality, like meta-trencherman Jeronimus and cattle-craving grin, but for the most part, the illustrations sat on the page. It’s a shame, because his other work has been stunning.
Perhaps the series will pick up, but this first issue left me with a been-there-done-that taste. You could easily transpose any one of Ellis’ many misanthropic, drug-addled/alcoholic, cynical characters into this intel-subculture and not notice a difference. Lazarus Churchyard, Spider
Jerusalem, or Jenny Sparks would work equally well in this story, and in the end, that’s what’s weakest about this book. Ellis doesn’t give us anything new to work with, and that’s a shame. He’s not a one-trick pony – Orbiter and Strange Kiss proved that – but Desolation Jones seems like yet another lizard in an Escher-esque mosaic. It’s Transmetropolitan and City of Silence all over again, and while a fun and a diverting read, it’s just another Warren Ellis book, so far.
Is Desolation Jones just another mad bastard in a mad subculture, or is there an angle to be unveiled that will make this distinguishable from the rest of the Ellis canon? I’ll be back as the first story arc wraps up to let you know.
