3 out of 5

While it’s absolutely redolent 80s/Micheline affects, the tale of Bozz the depressed alien and Mandy the prostitute and Salem the cowboy and their detective agency is generally as fun as that mash-up sounds, although it’s tempting to think how much more fun it could’ve been if spun into actual detective yarns and shed of the unnecessary subplotting weight…

As explained by Micheline in his intro, he saw E.T., then had some ideas, one of which was the same basic premise – alien stranded on Earth – but without the requisite technology to “phone home.”  His solution for making this barrier reasonable was to supplant the story into Victorian-era London, and his extra addition was to extrapolate that this stranding would certainly cause the alien to feel mega lonely and suicidal.  Bloop, and Mr. Micheline was on his merry plotting way.

While I don’t think this is an unreasonable conclusion, the simplicity with which its presented is pure comic writing, and definitely in the vein of those working for the majors during that era.  Bozz – not his name, but Mandy’s approximation of his name – gets bored, then wanders off to hang himself, which he happens to do right in the rundown homestead wherein pre-detective-in’ Mandy brings her johns.  Immediately she seeks to halt him from doing harm to himself, then flash forward to an exposition dump where she recalls to herself what happened next (that lovably lazy narration method): that an un-occupied Bozz equals a suicidal one, and so dot dot dot Detective Agency!  This also requires a panel or two each issue during which our alien looks blase and Mandy quickly recounts to herself that she needs to find a case fast else her money train – case solvin’ being lucrative – shall depart.  But, oh, next panel, maybe it’s not just the money values, but the friendship…?  The way the semblance is presented, all of these details end up feeling like after-the-fact additions, and are absolutely unnecessary, as there could’ve been countless other ways to approach the material that wouldn’t’ve required such a drawn out explanation.  Thaaankfully, deciding to script Bozz as an aloof genius who can talk to animals gives the story a certain levity, along with the general hilarity of everyone overlooking his obvious physical oddity – being a tall yellow giant with a pointed head – to the extent that the muscle the team ends up adding via Salem (Micheline writes Mandy with an over-the-top cockney accent, and Salem gets to be his over-Americanized chap, always talkin’ up wrasslin’ cattle and eatin’ hot chili), while let in on the alien secret, refuses to accept it.  And while Micheline doesn’t really write mysteries so much as foibles that are “solved” by stumbling into the solution, the six issues are like a tour of pulp fantasies, and so definitely satisfy on the adventure front.

Art-wise, Bret Blevins evolves from issue to issue, landing in a deftly detailed sketchiness for the last couple of issues that brings the city and characters to life with its energy.  His work prior to that is plenty fine, but the balance of realism and wackiness sometimes eludes him, causing characters to look a bit out of place.  I think he also benefits from John Ridgway – doing fill-in on issue 4 – giving Bozz some more human details, as the child-like look he sports in the first few issues makes him seem more dumb than just unaware of the world around him; slight shifts are incorporated after that fill-in that help smooth out that balance.

The Dover collection has a nice, flexible cover and glossy, magazine-type pages that are light but solid.  The cover gallery is cropped a bit off, but the extra sketches are nice, along with the intro / post-script from the art contributors.

The Bozz Chronicles is a fun read, if a wordy and eye-rollingly plodding at points in its attempts to justify its existence.  Subtlety wasn’t Micheline’s charm, but the creativity shines through, buoyed by some fanciful – and at time wonderful – artwork.  At some point, though, someone makes a go of this and turns it into a real detective tale, dropping some of the plotting excess by the wayside, and then it becomes something super awesome.  Wait – that’s sort of happening with Resident Alien, which is super awesome.  Woop!  Don’t worry, Mr. Hogan, I won’t tell no one!