3 out of 5

I really like The Umbrella Academy, I really do.  But it’s missing something, and that something… is central.  That something makes me enjoy it but not feel anything about it.  And as this second, time-hopping, clever, wonderfully Gabriel Ba-arted series heads into its latter half and I start to realize that all that plotting cleverness is having zero impact on me, I start to question my “like.”  Did I jump to that emotion too easily, won over by some well-timed sequences and what feels like smart dialogue?  I mean… does it matter, if it’s easy to read?

But yes, yes it does.  Because the success of Way’s willfully wayward UA series encouraged this trend, of excising substance for surface, and UA’s thread-thin soul of family squabble is the only thing keeping it grounded.  Instead of building on that grounding, though (which the first arc maybe did – it’s been a while since I read it), arc two, Dallas, does a lot of hand-waiving to dance around it, ultimately building to a conclusion that I didn’t even realize was what the series was about.  You get what I’m saying?  The story didn’t even matter so much as keeping a wink in the tone and fun visuals a rollin’.  Not a crime-worthy m.o., but when it’s latched to ‘meaning’ intended by the occasional poetic reflection (admittedly the only hint of Way’s other career as an emo singer, but an unfortunate one), it feels…  vacuous.  Like it’s missing something.

Dallas is about the scattered members of the UA coming back together to save JFK.  There’s casual (maybe to the point of being irresponsible…) violence, high-concept compressed narrative, and amazing colors and visuals from Dave Stewart and Ba – and awesome design from Stanley Tong – which give the book perpetual energy and attitude.  Way’s script walks the walk effectively.  It is not boring, and characters fit their various stern or silly personas with every line and action.  I think it’s a good gateway comic to stranger things, but once you’ve read a book that can marry oddity to a clear intention (e.g. something by Grant Morrison, Way’s admitted influence), it feels simplistic for all its bluster, and the surprise you felt that this is the My Chemical Romance dude wears off.