“Black Hammer” has many insightful things to say about existence, the superhero, etc. but it’s most important statement might be on the nature of zombie-like creatures and necrophilia.

Written by Jeff Lemire

Illustrated by Dean Ormston

Colored by Dave Stewart

Lettered by Todd Klein The Eisner Award-winning superhero saga returns! As new Black Hammer Lucy Weber fights her way out of this gritty new dimension, she finds herself caught in Hell itself and up against trickster demons, Satan, and a bizarre emo god.

The Hammerverse overall has been one big homage-love letter by writer Jeff Lemire and his various artistic partners to superhero comics, but when it comes to “Black Hammer” in particular this homage and other metatextual elements isn’t what grabs me in most. In many regards “Black Hammer” feels in the same key as Lost, a group of depressed and wounded individuals find themselves in a mysterious setting wherein they try to escape but really it’s about all the ways there being there is improving them that is keeping them there. The continuation of this series, now sub headed as “Age of Doom,” continues to read as Lost alike, the latter season specifically where the show made the terrible decision to explain and give answers to things. Structurally the dual tract plotting (split between The Farm and Lucy Weber’s adventures) is quite effective allowing Lemire to dramatically leave things hanging for few pages or just cut to the good stuff. As of the second issue, though, there feels like a disconnect between the two threads that gives me a slight pause.

The tension between the desire for answers and trying to keep things stable comes through on the Farm. Gail and Barbie are already acting like they’re on their way out as they leave for the library while Abe busies himself fixing the roof and making dinner. This series has never really been action packed, and as seen later in the issue it might not be Dean Ormston’s strength, but his cartooning delivers excellent subtle character beats that go a long way in dimensionalizing these characters. His art combined with Lemire’s dialog – which features a couple of comedic daggers – sells the rapport and relationship between Barbie and Gail. Their adventures in the library are humors, but it’s their extended conversation on the steps about what’s waiting for them on the other side, keeping them here, and the nature of Sherlock Frankenstein’s state of living undeath, that was most engaging. Ormston uses their difference in size and a few long shots of the two to make the their pages of dialog have an excellent flow. There is also plenty of close ups interspersed as Gail opens up about her relationship with Sherlock Frankenstein and Barbie makes a pithy one liner. These close ups pretty much follow the same general form, but instead of reading as copy and pasted, Ormston tweaks these little lines on Barbie or Gail’s face to change their expression and drive it forward. It’s these extended sequences that humanize these characters beyond their pastiche origins.

I may not be as immediately invested in Lucy’s thread, however, the ways in which the creative team dramatizes and use it to explore themes and motifs is still top notch. The weight, not the passage, of time has been a consistent motif in “Black Hammer.” It is expressed in the eyes Dean Ormston gives his figures. These eyes are not the glazed over mania found in Thomas Lea’s The 2000 Yard Stare, they are beaten down and almost broken. Lucy Weber’s eyes aren’t there yet, her portrait at the bottom of page one is full of annoyed fire. Her sequence provides interesting riffs on that feeling of weight as Lucy finds herself an unwitting guest in both the Anteroom and Hell, thanks to discount Constantine.

On this cosmic odyssey, time is technically characterized as being in a state of “timey wimey wibbly wobbly.” This state of flux opens up new possibilities to express that sense of weight, which previously was associated with the mundanity of existence on the farm. The first example of new ways of expression is in the extended moment to moment sequencing as Circuit Breaker preforms in a page of contradictions. The bands contradictory lyrics are what ties the page together, letterer Todd Klein gives them large but cramped balloons that seem to express punkish energy but contrast with the still lifeless quality of their audience. Is this song supposed to be something upbeat or a slowjam? There’s a timeless quality to the sequence. Whatever the case is, Lucy doesn’t want to be around to figure it out according the expression on her face and demands passage out of the Anteroom.

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Later on in the issues, Jeff Lemire and Dean Ormston attack this motif from a different angle as Lucy finds herself trapped in Hell. The previous exercise was in using moment to moment transitions to extend and confuse things. Lucy’s battle against the hordes of Hell uses action to action transitions with each swing of her hammer, in a sequence lasting eight panels over two pages. At first blush the sequence can feel frustratingly short, the idea of Lucy Weber battling the hordes of Hell sounds cool. But that isn’t the point of the sequence; it’s about showing the passage of time where an instant is an eternity and vice versa. By doing it action to action, it creates the perception of a fast and lively action sequence when in actuality some undetermined amount of time is passing by. With each swing, with each panel, the anonymous pile of demon bodies grows ever larger. The sequence renders Lucy indefatigable, and splattered with blood, but the Devil has a familiar look in his eyes and body language. He may not be beaten into submission by this violent monotony, but they’re certainly bored of it. And so Lucy and her new companion, discount Deadman, journey to another weird comics inspired setting on their quest to get back home.

I may not be fully on board with the dual tract plotting or have any idea where it is going. In this regard Jeff Lemire has proven himself adept at pulling it all together in it’s final pages and makes me feel a poor reader for not realizing it earlier. As a matter of craft and finding new ways to express and explore old motifs, the “Age of Doom” continues to be well worth the read as everyone tries to find their way home.

Final Verdict: 7.5 – One of the best series of last year continues to be consistent in it’s craftmanship even if things feel a tad disconnected at the start.