If you’re a fan of our Summer TV Binge, you’ll recall that this year, my boyfriend and I took a look at the first season of TNT’s Witchblade. We decided not too long ago to pick up with the second season, which then had me thinking to go back and look at the source comic – – the original one from 1995. How close was it to its TV adaptation? How 90s comics will this get? Let’s find out.

Written by David Wohl and Christina Z.

Penciled by Michael Turner

Inked by D-Tron

Colored by Nathan Cabrera and JD Smith

Police officer Sara Pezzini dresses to kill and engages in an unauthorized sting of a group of local drug dealers; she is chewed out by her boss for her antics and because she endangered her partner, Michael Yee, who was already undercover on the operation. During the interrogation of drug informant Drexler, Sara and Michael learn about something big going down at the old Rialto theatre on that very night, but on their way to the Rialto, Sara and Michael are called to a crime scene where the victim has literally been cooked from the inside out. Superstar businessman Kenneth Irons and his deadly bodyguard, Nottingham, begin their tournament by offering paying attendees a chance to try on a mystic gauntlet called the Witchblade. Sara has snuck in solo and watches in horror as mob boss, Cugliani, sticks his hand into the Witchblade and has it burned off; Irons’ men catch Michael lurking about outside and prepare to execute him.

I’ve always been a person who, when looking at a film/TV adaptation of a book, often says that cliche, “well, the book was better,” even if the changes made for television enhance the story or keep a beloved character on screen just a little bit longer.

This is one of those times where I have to say, 100 percent and without reservation, that Witchblade the TV show is better.

Now I’ve read my fair share of 1990s comics, so I knew what I was in for when I started this. I know the 1990s, while they did give us some pretty good things in comics (Deadpool, for example), is a decade best left forgotten. This series is proof positive of that and hits every tick box of a 90s comic: over-detailed artwork, females drawn for the male gaze, and way too much text (though it does balance well alongside artwork). All it needs is some badly drawn feet (sorry, Mr. Liefeld) to make the stereotype complete. So appropriately, I dialed down my expectations. Perhaps I should have dialed them down a bit more, but I’ll blame naivete.

While artwork is (putting it mildly) a hot mess, the dialogue is less so. Sure, there are moments where there’s over-exposition and the idea of “show, don’t tell” would serve moving plot along better, and that’s hard to overlook. What this does do decently is set up our characters (albeit slowly), first introducing us to corporate overlord Kenneth Irons, then Sara Pezzini, and finally the mysterious Ian Nottingham. Along the way we also get to meet some of our supporting characters such as Pez’s partner Danny and her boss/mentor Joe Siry. (With Siry, I have to say: the show got its casting very much right.) The one we get to know the most is Pez, as we find out her inspirations for becoming a cop, but Kenneth and Ian remain their most mysterious (as they very well should). We follow Pez from a gangster meeting at the Rialto (just like in the premiere TV movie) to a murder in Greenwich Village to another trip to the Rialto where she first meets – – and bonds – – with the Witchblade. While over the top in dramatics, their initial meeting does add more tension to the Witchblade/Pez relationship that we see in the TV show, and hints that perhaps Ian has more control over the Blade than we may think. These are things I do wish had translated to television, for they’re executed decently here.

All this would be somewhat forgivable and even somewhat entertaining if it wasn’t for that artwork, particularly when it comes to Pez. When your first introduction to your tough-as-nails NYC cop is of her ass in a thong, you know where the tone and goals for this series lie: as little clothes as possible, a wardrobe virtually unrealistic for her job, pouty lips, more subservient sex symbol than competent detective. By the time she bonds with the Witchblade in the final pages, she’s practically naked. Never have I been been so grateful for basic cable standards and practices. (Can you imagine what this series would have looked like on It’s-Not-Porn-It’s-HBO?)

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There’s two stellar moments of character artwork. The first is Kenneth Irons: square jaw, square body frame, all conveying power with a side of mystery. (It’s the one time that the TV show failed, amping up the mysterious side of Mr. Irons at the expense of his power and influence.) Ian Nottingham comes a close second, though erring more on the side of sad Kylo Ren goth than mysterious stalker. And what of the Witchblade itself? In spite of intricate detail, it looks almost organic, fluid, liquid – – and the moments when it bonds with Pez show its power and her pain and vulnerability.

While I enjoyed (and continue to enjoy) Witchblade the TV series, I don’t think I’ll be going back to the comic any time soon (at least this series, the 2017 reboot appears to improve on artwork even if pacing is still slow).

Some things are perhaps best left in the past. This is one of them.