The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys

I was as surprised as anyone else that Gerard Way’s “The Umbrella Academy” turned out as well as it did.  While writers from TV and film have a spotty enough record making a successful transition to writing comics, the number of celebrities from other mediums — Way was the lead singer and frontman for “My Chemical Romance,” in case you didn’t know — who have managed such a thing is close to nil.  The man pulled it off, though, with the two volumes of the series released so far being quirky, imaginative reads that do an excellent job of mixing humor, tragedy, and the utterly strange in their look at a very dysfunctional family of supertalented individuals.  They also have art from Gabriel Ba, so expect them to look as good as they read (even if the first volume is the better of the two, so far).

It’s been a few years and Way’s first project since the second volume of “The Umbrella Academy” apparently ties into the last album from his band.  That’s not so big a deal as the fact that he has a co-writer, Shaun Simon, on this new book as well.  While I’m tempted to put everything that goes wrong with “The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys” down to this new influence, the simple fact is that this miniseries is a disappointingly familiar and unimaginative read.  At least Becky Cloonan’s art makes it look visually stunning from beginning to end.

So who are the fabulous Killjoys?  According to what we’re told here, they were a rebel group who fought the good fight against the all-consuming control of Better Living Industries and went out in a blaze of glory in the process.  Along for the ride with them was a girl, named Girl, who was apparently being guarded by them because she was going to do something great when she got older.  It’s been years since the Killjoys last stand and Girl is wandering the wasteland outside of the Battery City megalopolis with a black kitten as her partner not doing much of anything.  That is, until she encounters a group of individuals determined to uphold the Killjoys’ rebellious spirit and who see her as nothing more than a glorified hanger-on to something she was never fully invested in.

You’ll find precious little explanation as to who the Killjoys were and why we should care about them beyond the summary I’ve given above.  Basing the book’s mythology on a group who isn’t fleshed out beyond a generic “freedom fighter” characterization doesn’t give you a whole lot to get invested in.  Of course, the overall characterization of the cast in this series is pretty lacklustre.  Several of the cast are simply one-note ciphers like Val, the angry leader who wants to pick up the Killjoys’ mantle, his two loudmouthed followers, and the poor android sexbot who can’t catch a break for herself or her girlfriend.

The members of the cast who wind up getting fleshed out a bit more don’t fare that much better as they wind up following fairly generic paths.  Girl spends most of the volume trying to figure out what her purpose is before she finally figures it out and has a head-shaving moment to let us know that she’s serious about it.  A bit more interesting is Korse, one of Better Living Industries top killers who winds up in a slump due to “emotions.”  Even if his role as the hired gun of the fascist state who realizes that something is wrong is quite familiar, I felt that his road to that point is handled with a bit more nuance than the rest of the cast.  Particularly the scene in the elevator when he realizes that the jig is up and he can’t do anything about it.

Yet there’s precious little nuance and even less originality to go around in this story.  What we get here is essentially a standard issue “fight the power” narrative with the colorful outlaws taking on the big bad corporation.  The climax even hinges on a “the power was in you all along” riff without ever displaying the cleverness necessary to overcome that hoary trope.  When all is said and done, the “Killjoys” trite, heavy-handed reworking of a very familiar narrative leaves you wishing that Better Living Industries had crushed the protagonists to show them that they weren’t worthy after all.

As I mentioned above, what keeps this miniseries from being a total loss is the art from Cloonan.  Her work here is rich with detail and filled with expressive characters who sell the drama and pathos of the narrative far better than Way and Simon’s words do.  Even little scenes, such as the girl who tries to strangle her boyfriend after seeing him as a giant spider, can conjure up emotions like sadness and horror in the way she presents them.  Really, Cloonan’s art is constantly inventive throughout, and renders this patchwork world with such detail and verve that it’s easy to enjoy the story simply based on her work alone.  I realize I’m getting into superlatives here, but I do think that this is the strongest work I’ve seen from her yet.  (Though colorist Dan Jackson also deserves a lot of credit for the vibrancy he instills in her art.)  Best of all is the fact that she keeps it up for all six issues, so there’s more of Cloonan’s work to enjoy than we’ve seen from her in a while.

If you are a fan of Cloonan, then this miniseries is worth picking up for the art alone.  Just be warned that it’s all going to be in service of propping up a very generic story.  Way proved he could write a good comic book with “The Umbrella Academy,” but he has either lost the thread or is being bogged down by a less-than-talented co-writer.  I’ve heard that with the end of this miniseries, Way is going back to writing the third volume of his signature creation.  Maybe we’ll find out what happened to all of the wit and imagination we’ve seen from him before, and was sorely missed here, when it arrives.