3 out of 5

‘Final Flight’ seemed to start out as something to finally rival the emotional heft of Garth Ennis’ best War Storys – a foreword from the author / artist speaking to the drive and dedication of kamikaze pilots and how that served as inspiration to “dive into (the) story without restraint,” and to render each panel “a source of pleasure, a pure act of joy.”  It’s such a direct and positive commitment to what would normally be a bleak topic that it makes the first story of the four interconnected tales presented astoundingly effective.  Pilot Teruo does not agree with the war, but he serves his nation and wants to do his father proud, so he suits up and does his duty to death, as is asked of him.  Each panel is miraculous; commodity of image and text, just enough leading to make the action real but leaving space for the reader to piece images together.

But something happens as we progress from story to story.  First – that notion of them being interconnected.  It’s not apparent from the start.  Normally I’d approve of this structure – each tale is a small step back in time, establishing a minor or major connection with the preceding tale with the exception of the first and second story, which roundabout connect via an epilogue.  Each portion mainly focuses on one country, one person.  If Hugault had carried that sense of honor from the first story into each portion individually, this would’ve remained a haunting collection.  Unfortunately, from part 2 – American Tom – seeds of change are sewn, a rescue from a heroic crash landing resulting in a cinematically ‘friendly’ war tale that doesn’t quite sit as straight next to part 1, but for now we’ll allow the different rewards and losses of battle a temporarily happy ending.  In part 3, the German Günther, however, the connecting structure is fully revealed, making it the most impersonal entry in ‘Flight,’ commentary on the stereotypical cold Germanic personality notwithstanding.  And finally the Russian Alain, not even narrated by the main character and a perfunctory inclusion just to make the structure work.  Taken separately, it’s an interesting glimpse at a sudden wartime romance and how its effects carries, though its concluding statements ring somewhat hollow – I love the concept of the sacrifice of life being a point of contention in books or movies, as though if you’d just let me sacrifice my life instead, somehow that’d be a happier ending.  Yeah, yankee doodle fuck you, Mr. or Ms. Totally Lacks Perspective.

Ah well, people are hollow.

Anyhow, I take a step back to say that the art is stunning the whole way through, Hugualt giving each main character a distinctive look for their country without dipping into stock attributes, and the planes are lavished with glorious detail, but as the same care is given to the skies and the terrain, it doesn’t just come off as wanky war drawings.  And each story is good, none are bad – though, as mentioned, some are better than others.  And I liked that this didn’t ring of translation, so kudos to Erik Svane.  Alas, if not for that foreword (which, admittedly, comes after Teruo’s title page, so it’s my fault for assuming it applied to the whole book and not just that tale), the contrast between the stories might not be so apparent, and the somewhat forced connections not so bothersome.  But as an addition to a genre library, ‘Final Flight’ certainly has enough value – both in terms of minutiae accuracy and story weight – to merit a read.