3 out of 5

Bunn makes some repeated blurps in his writing.  Sometimes the idea is solid enough to overcome those blurps; sometimes the idea gets totally sidetracked by them.  Empty Man sort of does both of these things, with an insanely strong and fascinating premise that keeps getting kicked slightly out of focus by some forest-for-the-trees plotting.

I wouldn’t quite classify Bunn as “an idea man” – which is what I would consider dudes like Bendis or Kirkman, who are endless sources of writerly momentum and high level pitches but their content feels auto-generated – but with the amount of output he’s currently offering, it’d be easy to lump him in that crowd.  ‘Sixth Gun’ has been churning along and getting stronger and stronger, and then Cullen was nabbed by the majors and his name started appearing on a lot of books… while he still managed to keep juggling a bunch of indie titles at the same time, of which Empty Man was one.  And because these indie books have that “pitch” vibe – Hellbreak is about a group of operatives who break people out of Hell; Terrible Lizard is about a young girl bonded with her dinosaur; Helheim is about a warrior resurrected and stitched together from demons – it’s easy to just lump them all together as supernatural clutter.  But they’re not.  While I’ve been plus/minus on the execution of these books, on the whole, it doesn’t feel like Bunn is just in a room tossing out ideas and running to the nearest publisher who will let him write them, but rather taking advantage of the Now to maybe work on some concepts he’s always had churning.  The result is a very mixed bag, and it’s tough to determine the solidity of a series in a pinch, which is what separates his style from Bendis or Kirkman, whose – to me – books can be summarized stylistically by reading one issue.  Still, often enough what I find is that Bunn has these great concepts, and he starts himself out in the right direction… but it’s almost like he overthinks it.  Empty Man, on the one hand, boldly avoids some obvious directions it could’ve taken, for which I was eternally thankful while reading it, but it still has these damned tossed-off concepts that stifle the potential, and it’s really the kind of character padding that happens in a lot of television shows to give each character an “arc.”  In a six issue mini-series, I’m not sure that’s necessary.

“The Empty Man” is both a cult and an event, a series of grisly murder / suicides over the course of years that are being investigated by both the FBI and CDC as a potential virus of the mind, causing its victims or perpetrators (one and the same, often) to claim that “The Empty Man” made them do x, y or z.  As illustrated by Vanesa R. Del Rey, the books are coated in shadow, and initially, Bunn is much more restrained with his narrative, which lends the tale – which mixes in a pseudo religion based around this concept, and followers of varying aggressive tendencies – an equal amount of darkness and creepiness.  Despite some missteps even from the get-go, Empty Man is creepy in a way which Lovecraft is creepy, as it mines the unknown.  And not to get spoilery, but this is where I appreciate the direction Bunn ultimately took things, because he forges a balance between explanations and Cthulu stuff such that it’s not just a Mignola variation, or some “it’s actually this…” easy reveal.  This balance is what maintains the readability of the series, despite the frustrating asides I keep mentioning, which, besides the character padding, basically amounts to adding in some super-real elements and action sequences that are too easily accepted or taken in stride by everyone, which distills the creep factor.  All of this is probably in the hopes of fleshing out the world, but especially because Cullen digs the horrorful side of things, less is often more.  We can learn a lot about our characters or scenario through implication.  Empty Man is sort of half and half with that approach.  But the good half is really good.

A quick extra nod toward Del Rey’s art and Scott Newman’s design work: Vanesa employs a very loose, thickly sketchy style for the book.  A lot of times, styles of this type lose me because they’re radically inconsistent to the extent that they look sloppy.  Depending on the subject matter, this can work, but often I find that inconsistency distracting.  Del Rey, though, keeps her character proportions and framing style tight – it’s a very purposeful application.  The shadows pull back for the final issue, which may or may not have been a conscious decision, but it aligns with that previous statement: you recognize people and places because of Rey’s consistency, but the mood feels different due to the way the shading relents.  The art is a huge part of this book, and it’s tough to visualize something as, at points, as gory and weird as Empty Man.  Some of the “bad” scenes would have been worse with a different artist; Vanesa gives them weight through her approach.

And Newman works with Del Rey’s motifs in his book design to make the whole package feel right.  Empty Man stood out on the shelves; it never quite looked like a comic book, maintaining that otherworldly feel through its design as well.

The ending of the series leaves things open for another entry, which I guess, if so desired, could allow Bunn to develop on some of the things I’ve poo-pooed, but I sort of hope Empty Man ends up standing alone.  It’s imperfect, for sure, but it’s an experience I feel can only be tarnished by going any further with it.  An interesting read, and a promising development in Bunn’s continually burgeoning career.