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Menthu: Anger of Angels
Publisher: Hometown Productions/Black Inc! Imprints
Story: Hannibal Tabu
Pencils: Robert Roach
Letters: Robert Roach
Cover: Quinn McGowan

I had the pleasure of reviewing early issues of Hannibal Tabu’s Irrational Numbers toward the end of last year, and I came away from the experience with a healthy appreciation for his writing style. His material is impeccably researched and methodically constructed, often enhancing character arcs with an almost surgical application of historical context. Anticipating that level of polish, however, is precisely why I found myself more than a little disappointed with the tone of Menthu: Anger of Angels. For all the rigor and precision one can presume went into his research, the characters and overall narrative are woefully uninspired.

The story begins with a clandestine confab, a secret meeting between renegade angel and unruly demon that spawns a murderous pact against an unassuming target. Rashan N’Shanga has earned the ire of minions from both heaven and hell simply by doing his part to make a difference in the world. By taking on the mantle of Menthu, “Kemetic demigod” and hero to the city of Los Angeles, the oblivious pro-football player has threatened the balance of supernatural power. Before he can attract too much attention and revitalize the Neter (Egyptian Pantheon of deities), subsequently depriving the existing status quo of worshipers, he must be eliminated.

As a hero, Menthu’s naivete is boundless. His altruism is a fault repeatedly employed against him in battle, not only to his detriment, but also against those he has chosen to protect. He is unsure, or even unaware of his abilities, and seems wholly unprepared for his chosen superhero profession. His father and uncle, both Kemetic deities themselves, are aware that he has come under fire from the other spiritual sects, but will only offer him cryptic guidance as the scope of the threat reveals itself. Sprinkle in a healthy smattering of ham-fisted pop culture references and subtract any semblance of personal charisma from every character, and the remaining product is a hurried, shambolic farce.

That chaos can be equally attributed to Robert Roach’s art, which varies from very crisp and clean in many of the more moderately paced sections to overly frenetic and even claustrophobic during some of the most intense action. In these sequences dark, heavy line work combines with inconsistent perspective and anatomy to persistently break the immersion. Panels become so cluttered that the movement must be deciphered before reading can resume.

This is a book that I want to like, because Hannibal’s talent peeks through in spite of some fairly cheesy dialogue and Roach has a unique eye for storytelling. As a whole, I feel like this one just needed a bit more time in the oven. I’d like to see slower pacing in the narrative, more clarity in the action, less pandering with cringe-inducing quips, and more genuine cultural subtext. Even if I’m not the target demographic, readers deserve to see this work fully, not half-baked.

Christian Davenport
cable201@comicattack.net