Drifting Classroom: The end, which surprisingly didn't come from everyone screaming themselves to death

The Drifting Classroom, volume 11
By Kazuo Umezu

And so ends one of the crazier comics to be made available in recent memory, and, as happens so often in manga, it's a slight letdown, in that everyone didn't die horribly, screaming all the way to their doom.  No, it's a somewhat happy ending here (from one point of view, at least), with only minimal death and gore, but there's plenty of classic Umezu insanity on hand, and a slightly hopeful (but still mostly pessimistic) outlook for the future.  The best moment (for providing an "Oh, shit!" reaction, that is), which demonstrates that even in the course of wrapping things up safely, Umezu still wants to deliver nutty violence, comes when a severed arm (introduced at the last minute as belonging to a guy who is apparently living in both time periods due to being caught in the explosion that sent the kids to the future) violently saves the day at the last moment:

Yeah, that's what we all came for.  The rest of the volume mostly sees the kids decide they can get back home by creating a psychic connection channeled through a comatose member of the group and all wishing to go back to the past really hard.  Surprisingly, it doesn't work, but there ends up being a reason for that, fitting Umezu's metaphorical look at the horrible world created for Japan's youth in the 1970s.  The kids end up stranded in the future, left to repopulate the world and survive on their own, and they vow to make the best of it, with a little bit of help from their long-dead parents.  In Umezu's world, there's no magical, last-minute escape from the situation in which the younger generation find themselves, and they're going to have to figure it out on their own, no matter how difficult things are going to be.  It's as optimistic as things get in this barren post-apocalypse, and it fits right into the extremely exaggerated tone that Umezu has kept up throughout, as the kids go from being horrified and murderous to excited about their brave new world.  Chances are, they'll all eat each other before the month is out, but there's a slight glimmer of hope, just like the dim flicker of a chance that society won't collapse after all the strain adults have placed on it.  Cheers!

And that's it for this particular horrible (or horribly, hilariously enticing) vision of Umezu's, although he's crafted plenty more over the course of his long career, meaning there must be a wealth of insanity just waiting to be placed in our hands.  There is one short story, "The Wish", that rounds out the end of this volume, and it's a good monkey-paw fable, about a kid who wants the hideous puppet friend that he cobbled together from garbage to come to life, which of course actually happens, but only after he has moved on to his next enthusiastic pursuit (actual friends!), the creepy thing showing up to wreak murderous revenge after being so callously discarded.  That's the Umezu we all love; let's see more, please!

Manga Mania Month overtime: Drifting Classroom never stops satisfying or horrifying

The Drifting Classroom, volume 10
By Kazuo Umezu

Kazuo Umezu appears to be attempting to blow everyone's minds with the sheer insanity he's producing here (or he was forty years ago, but despite its age and specificity of cultural commentary, this series is vibrant and modern, not a relic of the past).  Each new volume presents fresh horrors and depravities to witness, and one can only hold on and enjoy the ride, never knowing what's coming next.  This book sees a character who disappeared something like six volumes ago show up again, having inexplicably aged into an old woman and only staying alive long enough to utter a few cryptic words about a "paradise" near Mount Fuji.  So, since there's nothing left for them where they are, the kids all set out across the wasteland to see what they can find.  There's a lengthy scene in which they spend a good 30 pages trying to cross a deep ravine, culminating in an awesome bit of chivalry as Sho helps an unconscious classmate bridge the gap:

And then it's on to "paradise", which turns out to be an old theme park populated by murderous robots, including some awesome dinosaurs and what appears to be a decrepit version of Marilyn Monroe:

Wow, that's a disturbing image, especially given that we see her both before and after the freakishly sexualized damage to her exterior, with the supple, healthy-looking "skin" crumbling away to reveal the inhuman horror underneath.

After this, the situation manages to devolve even further, as the kids get more desperate and violent with hunger, eventually resorting to all-out war between the two factions, and a final battle to the death between Sho and Otomo.  But first, there's a scene in which they discover a computer which, in a bit of deep irony, speaks to them about the wonders of the future, even while it comes shuddering to a stop against a backdrop of a barren, destroyed wasteland.  Umezu makes this scene both funny and disturbing, with the old-school dials-and-switches machine sporting a goggling robotic eye and a ridiculous faith in the validity of its predictions of the glories of the future:

But that's just an interlude before the big final conflict, which sees Otomo's gang resort to cannibalism, and leading to some of the most striking moments in the series' history, as the kids guiltily proceed with their horrible deed:

And the way Umezu draws out the fateful moment as the selected kid consumes the results of said action is just terrible, fraught with trepidation, guilt, disgust, fear, and, yes, hunger:

This volume is chock full of such incredible moments; Umezu has gained confidence by this late point in the story, and he's able to deliver on such bits of terror as the moment when the robot dinosaurs populating the theme park wake up to terrorize the already-brutalized cast:

Or the gasping suffocation of some kids who get caught in a cloud of toxic gas:

Maybe it's the fact that these are children dying such horrible deaths, but even after all the mayhem and gore that we've seen throughout the series, Umezu makes each new demise felt; reader's can't help but cringe at the fear and horror of what happens.  Or gasp in shock, as in the regular "holy shit!" moments, like some of the older kids murdering a group of first graders for their food:



Holy shit!  Or the robot lady crushing another kid's head:

Shit.  And when everything devolves into mayhem and warfare, the deaths come fast and bloody, but they never seem like routine:

Holy. Shit.  Man, no matter how many times I see kids die horribly, I don't think I'll ever get desensitized.  At least, not when Umezu does it, since he's sure to plop readers right down in his terrible world and make it feel like a real death rather than a shocking stunt.  It's amazing, and pretty incredible to see the extent to which he is able to take things.  There's only one more volume to go, and whether or not Umezu can manage to "believably" end things, perhaps by finding a way to return the survivors to their own time or just massacring them all and fading to black, it's been a hell of a ride, and one that should stand the test of time as a work of comics like nothing else in the history of the medium.

Manga Mania Month: Drifting Classroom is still totally insane

Links and such: Here's a short "Giant Man" story from Matt Kindt, available before it's scheduled to be part of the next "issue" of Myspace Dark Horse Presents.  Looks good; I still need to read that book though...

Here's a contest I might enter: Adhouse is having people submit Afrodisiac-themed art, and their picks for the best entries will win prizes like original art or signed copies of the book.  I just might try to send something in.

And here's a bit of weirdness: a music video featuring just about every one of Osamu Tezuka's characters, set to a senses-overwhelming rave song, and seeing Astro Boy get operated on by Black Jack to get some sort of ridiculous makeover.  Strange!

The Drifting Classroom, volume 9
By Kazuo Umezu

It's been much too long since I read the previous volume of this series, but in my absence, Kazuo Umezu certainly hasn't missed a step.  What I'm saying is, holy crap, this series is nuts.  It's just one moment of unbelievable insanity after another, set at the highest intensity and never letting up.  And somehow, it never seems to get old or overstay its welcome; the kids in this horrible drama manage to seem like people we can root for, or at least hope they don't die horribly.  Maybe that just comes from their being kids, but they've gone through some awful shit by this point in the series, and things never get better.  The future of the younger generations at the time this was written may have been in question, but what Umezu put them through makes societal pressures seem tame in comparison.

So, what's in store for our merry band of survivors this time around?  They escape from the scaly mutants they faced last time, but get followed back to the school, with a bunch of students dying in the attack (which, in a series of rather gross scenes, sees the mutants vomit up some spider-web-like substance to encase people or create bridges to climb walls and buildings with).  Then, the ongoing dispute between Sho and his ex-pal Otomo sees the students split into two factions that end up at war with each other over trivial matters like flower ownership.  Also, knife fights:

And then they get attacked by giant starfish, just for more fun:

Also, Sho develops appendicitis, so the other students operate him, in what would be a credibility-stretching scene in most any other series.  Here, however, it fits right in with the over-the-top atmosphere, and provides some stomach-churning surgery scenes that add to the air of horror and gruesomeness:

You never know what Umezu is going to throw at his characters next, but it's always fitting, somehow upping the stakes to a ridiculous degree.  How he's going to manage to finish the series is probably going to be mindblowing and ridiculous, but also completely awesome.  Or absolutely terrible; we'll have to see.

But in the meantime, we can marvel at Umezu's techniques, which are full of the perfect stylistic devices for the tale.  The way he fills pages with torrents of speed lines makes the kids seem to be in constant motion, and when they're getting in fights with each other, it can seem like a crazy swirl of chaos:

It's strange; the character art can be kind of stiff (maybe from constantly tensing the body for screaming), but it works perfectly for the story being told.  Kids can be kind of strange anyway, and Umezu just emphasizes that oddness, making it part of the constant creepiness of the series.  He does mix things up though, with some roughness creeping into the art during highly emotional scenes, like this one between Sho and Otomo:

But that's nothing compared to the surgery scene, in which Sho's terrible pain makes the linework shake to its roots:

That's some disturbing stuff there; as unrealistic as the situation is, Umezu makes us feel it.  And he fills the book with other, more cerebral, unnerving moments, like one in which Sho has one of his cross-time psychic communications with his mother, and another girl acts as a sort of radio receiver for her voice:

Maybe it's the way her mouth opens to the familiar screaming width, but the rest of her features remain calm.  That's creepy.

This is some amazingly good comics, as long as you can get in the right mindset.  There's something about the way supposed innocents can be placed in the worst situation and seeing the way their actions reflect the state of humanity at large.  And with Umezu taking any chance he can to throw in his patented craziness, the result is something special, like nothing else out there.  Two volumes to go, and constantly increasing stakes can only mean that they'll blow minds with their nuttiness.  They'd better.

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Bonus: lots of "Oh shit!" moments:

Shit!

Oh, shit!

Shiiit!

Holy shit!

Time-wasting Monster Mash interlude: Joker makes my eyes hurt from rolling too much

Links, because I deem them ever-necessary: I liked this interview with Larry Young about The Black Diamond over at The Groovy Age of Horror.  Interesting reading.

And Tim Callahan has a nice look at the entire series of The Drifting Classroom.  I still need to finish reading this, but I've almost got my hands on all the volumes.  Then I'll be ready to dive into the insanity.

Joker

Written by Brian Azzarello

Art by Lee Bermejo

I should have known better than to bother with this, but curiousity got the best of me after reading Dick Hyacinth's takedown the other day.  I don't know if I really have much to add, but I feel like the experience shouldn't be a total waste.  That said, the main feeling I'm left with when reading this is, "What is the point?"  Sure, it's a violent, grimy, nihilistic wallow through the seamy underside of the Batman milieu, but I'm not seeing any sweeping themes that needed to be explored here, or any fresh takes on characters that make any of this worthwhile.  It's more just an excuse to shove as much nastiness as possible in the reader's face, snickering all the while because it's based in the world of brightly-colored spandex.

And those origins in the not-very-well-policed environs of DC Comics give the book the weird disconnect that others have noticed: violence and gore are perfectly okay, but oh no no no on any sexuality or naughty words beyond what would be acceptable in a PG-13 movie.  We can see, on panel, things like a man who has had all the skin removed from his body or a gaping bullet hole in another man's head, but strippers have to coyly hide their nipples, and the Joker's extended middle finger must be cut off by an adjoining panel.  To be fair, that's the way of American media; with our bizarre culture that has deemed extreme violence acceptable for all ages and allows (and even celebrates) sexiness up to a point, but freaks out if that fine line gets crossed.

Still, a decent plot or interesting characters might redeem the inherent ridiculousness of this enterprise, but nobody here is worth spending any time with, and even the colorful villains seem like a boring bunch of thugs that don't do anything interesting.  The Joker should be a dynamic force of nature, and while he manages a mildly funny line or two, he's really not a very interesting person to hang around with, and neither are the likes of Two-Face, the Penguin, the Riddler, or Killer Croc.  They could be generic lowlifes in any crime story, except most stories would attempt to do something with them.  

The plot involves Joker getting out of Arkham Asylum (he doesn't stage an exciting escape or anything; he's just released, for undisclosed reasons) and trying to regain his lost rule of Gotham City's underworld.  This involves killings and confrontations with other characters, none of which manage to engage the interest.  A conflict of some sort with Two-Face is referenced, and a mysterious, Pulp Fiction-esque briefcase makes an appearance, but none of this leads to anything.  Eventually everything peters out, and Batman shows up to capture the Joker again.  And that's all there is to it.  Whoop-de-doo.

What I find so surprising here is that Brian Azzarello can't manage to make this an engaging read.  He's capable of brilliance, but you wouldn't know it from reading this book.  Little of his witty dialogue shows up, characters don't seem to distinguish themselves from each other, and tight plotting is all but nonexistent.  I can only surmise that he's straitjacketed by the restrictions of corporate properties, but even that is a poor defense for this level of writing.  On the other hand Lee Bermejo turns in some nice, moody artwork; if only it wasn't so unrelentingly, monotonously dark and grim.  But even that aspect is distracting, since he veers between two art styles, one that fills pages with heavy, strongly delineated blacks that make all the characters seem to have wrinkles all over their faces, and a more smooth, painterly style that gives surfaces brushed mixtures of colors.  These two styles vie for precedence from page to page and even on the same page at times, drawing the attention away from what they are supposed to be depicting and toward the question of why the art is changing so frequently.

Overall, it's just a mess, an example of the arrested adolescense of modern superhero comics.  It's a "mature" book for people who can't bring themselves to consume anything that doesn't have a spandex flavor, who think that adult sensibilities involve sniggering at the hint of sex and blood being splattered on faces.  These creators shouldn't be wasting their (and everyone else's) time with this sort of nonsense, and the medium itself is worse for its existence.

The Machine Girl: Back to the good old WST

I don't write much about movies anymore, but I figured this was worthy of its own post.

The Machine Girl
Japan, 2008, directed by Noboru Iguchi



This might be one of the most enjoyable films I've seen lately in the "ridiculous camp violence" category. As could be guessed by the title and plot description, it's Japanese. The story concerns a girl whose brother was killed by a bully who is the son of a ninja Yakuza family descended from Hattori Hanzo, and after she loses an arm, she gets a machine gun replacement and goes on a bloody killing spree of revenge. Good times. Here, check out the trailer:



The opening scene sets up the movie pretty well, even though it's probably some sort of dream sequence that doesn't fit into the rest of the film's chronology. Our heroine, Ami, shows up in an abandoned parking garage (you know, the kind where teenage thugs always hang out) to interrupt a gang of bullies that are picking on a poor kid. She accuses them of killing her brother, whips out her crazy cyborg limb, and sets to murdering them all in the goriest fashion possible. It's the kind of movie where every wound results in geyser-like sprays of blood that drench everything nearby, including the camera.

That scene leads to a flashback (which lasts for the rest of the movie) in which we learn how Ami ended up this way. It's the familiar old story: brother gets killed; arm gets burned, cut, and severed; friendly auto mechanics fashion a gigantic machine gun prosthetic; hilarity ensues. It's all very silly, but there's enough imagination to make things pretty enjoyable, and a refreshing lack of angst-wallowing.

Sure, Ami does some weeping and crying about her brother's death, and in the beginning she vehemently denies the murder charge that her parents committed suicide over, but as soon as she sets out on her quest to bring her brother's killers to justice, she decides murderous revenge is her best option, and goes about gleefully killing everybody involved. There's a hilarious scene in which she confronts one of the bullies, and his parents get offended that she would accuse him, so the father starts attacking her with a golf club, and the mother fries her hand in boiling oil, resulting in a terrible, terrible bit of makeup that looks more like feathers than fried batter. But Ami responds by sneaking back into the house, chopping the son's head off, serving it to the mother in some soup, stabbing the mother through the back of the skull (which somehow makes her vomit up her intestines), dragging the son's body into the bathtub where the father is bathing, and dousing him with gallons of blood from the son's neck stump.

There's plenty more of this sort of thing, with each scene ending up crazier than the last. After Ami is captured by the yakuza family and tortured via arm removal, she escapes and makes her way back to the auto garage where her brother's friend Takashi's family lives. Takashi was killed along with her brother, so his mother, a tough former biker chick, hates and blames Ami, but Ami manages to win her over through some fist-fighting and arm wrestling. Of course. They end up teaming up to fight the yakuza family, and get a sweet bonding scene later when they mutually torture a henchman by hammering nails into his face.

The yakuza family is also incredibly enjoyable to watch, since they're so ridiculously over-the-top. Early on, the father and son have a bonding moment that involves sword-fighting and blood-drinking, and a later scene sees them have a swell family moment when they force a chef who spilled soup on the son's lap to eat some sushi topped with his own severed fingers. Hey, family values comes in all sorts of different forms. They also employ a ninja team who call themselves "The Junior High Shuriken Gang" to take out Ami and company, and have their own crazy weapons, including the father's flying guillotine and the mother's drill bra.

While the movie doesn't take itself at all seriously, there's rumination on revenge and whatnot when the parents of the boys who Ami kills get recruited to form their own revenge squad against Ami. It's not very deep or anything, but it's at least an acknowledgment that Ami isn't the only one affected by murder. That's all pretty negligible though; it's really just a showcase for gory, ridiculous violence; you'll get to see holes blown in bodies (and heads), heads severed and exploded, people cut in half both horizontally and vertically, and more fake blood spraying all over the place than any of the Lone Wolf and Cub movies. It's awesomely stupid, and a hell of a good time.
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Also of note: when perusing director Noboru Iguchi's IMDB page, I see that he also did an adaptation of Kazuo Umezu's Cat-Eyed Boy and something called Kazuo Umezu's Horror Theater: The Harlequin Girl. Sounds cool, I'll have to see if I can find those and watch them.

Drifting Classroom: In which we learn the origin behind all the screaming

Manga Blitz part 3 (which will be the last one for at least a few days; I got sidetracked in my reading when this week's comics showed up):

The Drifting Classroom, volume 8
By Kazuo Umezu



By this point in Kazuo Umezu's super-crazy series about kids stranded in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, everybody might be suffering from fatigue, including the characters, the readers, and even Umezu himself. At least, that would explain why this is possibly the weakest volume so far (which is not to say that it's actually bad or anything). Or maybe my thought processes have been warped enough by the insanity that I require an escalation each time around and feel some withdrawal when Umezu doesn't deliver it.

But even though the level of craziness is slightly below expectations, there's still plenty of insanity to be had. As we saw last volume, the only surviving adult, the evil Sekiya, had taken over the school, and he immediately sets to accusing Sho of somehow causing the whole catastrophe, getting some students to accuse him:



That doesn't really make any sense, but what does on this series? Maybe Umezu is going to retcon in some tragedy, giving Sho the guilt of causing everyone's troubles and the motivation to lead them to survive as best he can. Or maybe it's a throwaway detail that doesn't mean anything.

Anyway, Sho and his pals end up being confined to a deep hole in the ground and told to dig a well, but they end up finding a tunnel that leads to a subway system, where they find a working train car (!) and stumble across a society of monsters that seem to have mutated from humans (it's likely, since the kids who ate the mushrooms last volume are starting to look like them). They end up witnessing a film strip that the monsters show (using an old school projector, powered by who knows what) that gives a possible explanation for the end of the world. It's a full-on environmental fable, with the polluting humans causing climate change that turns the entire planet into a desert:



There are some interesting bits about humanity's rejection of nature in favor of facsimiles thereof as they isolated themselves itself in cities. It was probably a pretty resonant point in 1960s Japan, as the population became increasingly dense and concentrated in big cities like Tokyo. It makes for a good explanation of the apocalyptic environment, but I like the ambiguity that comes when the monsters (who speak Japanese, but only as a formality, since they communicate telepathically) state that they don't know if the film is a documentation of reality or a work of fiction.

The whole thing is kind of a decrease in energy, but luckily things get exciting again when the kids have to escape from the mutants:



In another resonant bit, the half-mutated students come to their aid, showing that they haven't completely lost their humanity. It's a nicely emotional scene, as these children who seemed lost manage to dredge up some feeling for their fellow students and choose the right path, instead of embracing the dark side of conformity. Who knows if we'll ever see them again, or if they're destined to disappear, half mutated and torn to pieces in a barren future.

As Sho and his gang escape, they end up discovering some more crazy shit, including a pile of mummified bodies and what might be the last surviving human, along with a pool of water that seems like a blessing, until it turns into a vent for a volcanic eruption. The kids have to escape from underground before they're trapped, leading to awesome scenes like this:



Or pseudo-scientific (or childlike, to be more apt) explanations of the happenings:



Or even this bit, in which one of them gets blown out of a tunnel by a sonic shock wave:



Damn, I love that kind of thing. While this volume seems a bit less intense, Umezu can still surprise with some crazy shit. I also love the "rumble" effect he uses on the characters, as if they're vibrating so fast we can't see them clearly. He does some other cool artistic stuff, like the rippling pools of light created by Sho's flashlight:



So while it's not my favorite volume of the series, it's still pretty damn good. I'm especially intrigued by the way the conflict between Sho and his friend Otomo is coming to a head, with the two of them ready to kill each other. That's a fight to the death to look forward to in the next volume, along with whatever other batshit nuttiness Umezu can deliver. I can't wait to find out what he's got in store.

Drifting Classroom: Don't eat the mushrooms

Hmmm. I'm getting behind here, so hopefully I'll be able to write a bunch and catch up. We'll see how it goes.

The Drifting Classroom, volume 7
By Kazuo Umezu



Wow. It's hard to come up with new things to say about each volume of this series, but that's not because it fails to engage, it's just that I'm not as creative in coming up with new content as Kazuo Umezu. I mean, crap, last volume saw an outbreak of bubonic plague, a mummy-based delivery system, and a giant (psychically-inspired?) flood. So how does Umezu follow that up? With a lot of worries about whether to eat the mushrooms that have sprouted up all over the place:



And a weird religious cult that eventually leads to a monster attack (I won't spoil the reveal on that one).

First things first: those freaky mushrooms inspire a lot of debate about their edibility, some of it violent:



The students (against the wishes of our good-hearted hero, Sho) end up deciding to force-feed them to Sekiya, the evil adult delivery man who reverted to an infantile state after facing an imagination-monster (I love describing this stuff). Hmmm, commentary on the proper treatment of prisoners and/or criminals? I'm probably reaching there, like usual, but it does come back to bite them on the ass when some abuse leads to one of those convenient memory-restoring head-bumps:





Oh, snap, that's not going to turn out well. Anyway, through hard-to-explain circumstances, a chubby kid ends up eating the mushrooms, and soon enough, he's running around like a loon, insisting that they're tasty and everyone should join in:





It's the classic case of peer pressure; "Come on, man, all the cool kids are doing it!" Like everything else in the book, you know this won't turn out well.

Later, Sho and the gang decide to use a bust he created of his mother as a goddess, giving the kids something to pray to. I don't know if this is Umezu's intent (isn't ancestor-worship prevalent in Japan?), but I see this as a demonstration of the ridiculousness of religion. Although it's also a look at religion's usefulness, since it gives them something to think positively about, rather than focus on the relentless hopelessness of their situation. Of course, this devolves into violence, when a cult of mushroom-eaters splits off from the main group, choosing instead to worship a one-eyed monster. And wouldn't you know it, the monster shows up to terrorize everyone (and possibly welcome its mutated worshipers). Classic. That plotline will have to be resolved later, however; it looks like the return of the evil Sekiya will take precedence for now. I'll have to get to the next volume soon.

But I also have to mention one instance of gruesomeness that Umezu brings here, as we get glimpses of the transformation that befalls kids who ate the mushrooms:



Yikes. Those dangly little toes are freaky. I love the energy of Umezu's art, whether it's the swooshing motion of the kids as the run around and fight each other, or their constant wide-open mouths as they scream about everything that is happening. And the oppressive darkness really emphasizes the horror of their situation. He's really established an anything-can-happen atmosphere, so you're never surprised when some batshit-crazy stuff goes down. Or rather, events surprise you, since it's impossible to predict what will spring forth next from Umezu's psyche, but nothing seems unrealistic. Umezu can sell this story so well, I believe it fully, and even though I'm repulsed, I can't look away. Awesome. I don't think I'll be the same after reading this series, but it's totally worth whatever emotional scars I suffer.

Drifting Classroom: Children are evil

Before I start, I have to link to Jog's latest column on the Savage Critics, in which he discusses the work of horror mangaka Hideshi Hino. After reading that, I feel that my latest mission in life is to track down and read Hino's Panorama of Hell. Wow, it looks fucking insane, in all the best ways.

In other news, I see that Brian Wood and Becky Cloonan will be doing a new six-issue Demo series for Vertigo. Awesome. I loved the first series (even if I was a couple years late getting to it), so I'm all for more of it. Wood is one of my current favorite writers, and Cloonan is a current favorite artist, so I'm stoked to see them do more work together.

Okay, on with the show:

The Drifting Classroom, volume 6
By Kazuo Umezu



Behold, the face of childhood evil:



Man, that is one creepy-looking kid. That's right there on the first few pages of this volume, and it makes me sorry I had gone so long without reading this series. At first, I had forgotten what was going on at the end of the last volume, but I got right back into the swing of things; the kids stuck in their horrible future wasteland were all dying of bubonic plague, and that mean kid had led a group of troublemakers and trapped our heroes in a building with a plan to burn them to death. Good times.

Man, every volume of the series is full of that sort of delightful awfulness, with kids exhibiting the worst humanity has to offer in terms of distrust and murderous impulses. This volume veers a bit from the formula though, spending over half its length in the present day, following protagonist Sho's mother as she tries to figure out how to send a cure for the plague to him in the future. It's as crazy as everything else in the book, as we see her pursue her goal of helping Sho, shoving aside anyone in her way, to the point where people think she's gone nuts:



Interestingly, there are a few scenes where she is confronted by the mother of another of the missing children, who blames Sho for her son's disappearance. But Sho's mother shoves her aside and refuses to listen to her, giving her the same treatment she has been getting from everyone else. I'm not sure if this is supposed to represent anything, but it stuck with me. Is it a comment on how even those with noble goals can be single-minded, ignoring the plight of others? Maybe Umezu will do more with these characters in future volumes.

Also of note in the "Sho's mother" chapter is a harrowing scene in which Umezu shows that the ruthless, violent attitudes and actions of the kids aren't exactly a deviation from the norm. While she is at a baseball game planning to confront a famous player (it's a long story), her actions cause a giant brawl to break out, with fans and players rushing the field in a near-riot:



Key dialogue: "Kick the shit out of her!" Oh, Umezu, how you give me pleasure.

I know Matt Thorn said I was trying too hard to find metaphors in this series, but I've got another one that hopefully isn't too far off base. We learn that the plague was caused by a couple of diseased pet squirrels that a diplomat brought back from the United States. It sounds to me like a representation of fear that the influence of foreign cultures is corrupting the younger generation. Or maybe Umezu just hates squirrels.

In addition to the myriad deaths by plague here, we also get to see some drownings, accidental decapitation, and quicksand-related tragedies. That Umezu gets pretty innovative with the means of juvenile death. I don't know how he's going to keep up this carnage for another five volumes, but I can't wait to find out.

Reptilia: Suggested alternate title: "The Snake Lady Annoys Everyone To Death"

Ah, the weekend. Time for me to slack off not do much of anything, especially blogging. But I've gotta get back into things, so here's another review. And I'll plug the contest again, although I'm despairing of getting any more entries. I had originally given December 10 as the deadline, so if I don't get anything else by the end of the day tomorrow, I'll declare a winner. Anyway, here's a weird book:

Reptilia
By Kazuo Umezu



I love Kazuo Umezu's insane Drifting Classroom (here's my review of the most recent volume that I've read), so I was excited to check out another manga of his. This one is a bit older, originally published in 1965, and it seems a bit less polished than his later work. While it has a lot of weirdness and ostensibly scary stuff, it's not nearly as disturbing; it seems more like a corny monster movie.

The book has three stories, with the first two linked and the third acting as something of a prequel. They all involve young girls being menaced by a "snake lady", a beautiful woman who turns into a snakelike creature and tries to eat them. In the first story, young Yumiko is visiting her mother in the hospital when she learns that there is a snake lady being kept somewhere in the facilities. Curiosity getting the better of her, Yumiko wanders around the hospital and stumbles across the snake lady's room, which isn't very secure, since the lady escapes that night and takes the place of Yumiko's mother (she can look like a normal woman when she wants to). She then comes home, and only Yumiko knows she is an impostor, so there are plenty of tense scenes with the snake lady menacing Yumiko and nobody believing her. It's pretty amusing stuff, and Umezu is always there with the bizarre details, like the snake lady being obsessed with eating frogs:



This chapter sets up a trend that will last throughout the book, in which the snake lady repeatedly menaces and threatens the main character, but doesn't actually kill her. She'll stand in front of her saying, "I'm going to eat you now!" but she won't actually do anything. It's like one of those corny old monster movies where the monster chases people around without ever catching or hurting anybody. It gets pretty silly.

After the snake lady is dispatched (sorry, spoiler, but really, did you expect anything else?), the second story sees Yumiko going to visit her relatives in the country. Little does she know, the snake lady escaped her captivity and stowed away for the journey. She's really obsessed with Yumiko for some reason. The people in the village are superstitious and think Yumiko is a snake lady, somehow related to another snake lady that lived in the village. The villagers avoid the "snake house" where the old snake lady lived, so Yumiko and her cousin Kyoko naturally go check it out and get into trouble:



Kyoko gets bit by a snake there, and the snake lady that came along with Yumiko messes with her medicine in the hospital (or something like that), so Kyoko ends up turning into a snake lady herself, converting the rest of the members of her family, and trapping and menacing Yumiko. It's pretty ridiculous; they trap her in the house and say they're going to kill her, but they never actually do anything. Eventually, they all get defeated, and Yumiko gets to go home. The end.

Oh, but wait, there's another chapter! This one goes back into the past, and we learn the origins of the snake lady, or something. There was this guy who got attacked by a snake monster in a swamp, and he shot it but died of fright:



Years later, his granddaughter Yoko's parents are killed by a familiar reptilian female, and then she gets adopted by this weird rich woman. As you might guess, it turns out the woman is a snake lady, and she's been cursed by the snake monster in the swamp and is carrying out its revenge on the family of the hunter that shot her. So she menaces Yoko for a while, doing the old "stand there and threaten to kill her" routine, before finally cursing her as well and turning her into a snake lady. Then Yoko goes and threatens her friends for a bit before everybody goes and has a final showdown at the swamp. And does one of the characters end up in a room in the hospital, destined to become the snake lady of the first two chapters? I'll leave that one up in the air, but I wouldn't hold your breath.

So it's all pretty damn weird, and really doesn't make a whole lot of sense. It's not all that scary, but Umezu does a pretty good job of establishing a creepy mood, and seeing kids wide-eyed with horror never gets old:



He also does some stuff that's just genuinely weird and freaky, like the way the snake lady slithers along the ground:



Or this inexplicable little bit:



By this point, I was just left shrugging my shoulders and saying "what the hell, why not?" You just gotta go with it and sacrifice any understanding, I guess. Then you can just admire the art and not worry whether it makes any sense. You still get some cool panels like this one:



So overall, it's enjoyable enough if you sacrifice any sense of understanding and just marvel at Umezu's batshit insanity. It's definitely worth reading for Umezu fans, but I don't know what anybody else will make of it. Read at your own risk.