Broken Frontier

Picking up where the climax of issue #1 left off, Sabbath gets a new look, some new weapons, new abilities, and overall begins his ascension to becoming…something else, something new and undeniably powerful. Thus evolved, he moves to the American capital (a place now become a mass burial site), and there he stages his first major coup.  Though to accomplish it, he’ll have to defeat the Deadly Sin named Sloth!

Two issues in and I’m still not sold on Pogrom, though I’m equally still intrigued as all hell by it.  Matthew Tomao’s odd horror/sci-fi dystopia hybrid is a thing I want to like, with its unique execution and pace, a protagonist that wields potential to be a superb anti-hero, amoral wanderings through an uncharted landscape that can’t help but fascinate.  The concept of Pogrom is a great one, and Tomao definitely works hard to sacrifice none of his unique vision in bringing the book to four-color life, to write in ways that never seem rote, though often his staunch commitment to grandiose narrative techniques proves overly much, ultimately alienating.  And yet…and yet….

I can’t deny: I want to know what happens next.  With this latest chapter the formula underneath Pogrom reveals itself, the general order amidst ostensible chaos.  Sabbath begins to change, a change that should be revealed slowly, a single piece per issue until the seventh and final chapter, the Sins confronted one by one.  Even the general breakdown of events and their spacing between each other—Sabbath’s self-discovery, movement through the future world, revelation of a new piece of said world, and then brief but blistering battle with a Sin—follows precisely the script of issue #1.  Five Sins and five issues to go, and Pogrom may have a slice of predictability to it, a dash of steadiness in an otherwise unruly brush of storytelling.

What is it about Pogrom that seems “difficult”, then?  “Grandiose”, as I call it?  The narrative utilizes a poetic, nearly metered voice, an ornate way of speech that’s willfully obtuse.  The world of Pogrom’s alternate future is explored, but only in piecemeal and without a progression that makes mathematical sense, as Sabbath’s travels aren’t fully shown but merely told: he was there, now he's here.  Vistas come quickly and are shown in surface, but nevertheless seem arbitrary, while characters move in similarly mysterious ways.  The storytelling definitely holds the audience’s interest, but it’s never entirely accessible.  The words show that Tomao knows what he’s talking about, that he has a plan, but he never allows enough insight into character or the drama at hand for the story to emerge outside of its own nuance.  The forest here is definitely buried by its trees.

The art by Josh Medors presents a similarly mixed bag: on the one hand, it’s pleasing and strong in general layout, jagged black lines that perfectly suit the material.  But the detail and panel-by-panel events are not always apparent, and Tomao’s scripting does little to illuminate further.  The art is easy on the eye, but not entirely captivating; explicit, but not thoroughly dynamic.  There’s a choppiness to the narrative that isn’t relegated just to the words, but also the visuals, the move from one moment to the next often unclear until explained if at all.

Pogrom remains a unique book, though it has yet to prevail over its shortcomings.  The beginnings of an actual formula both thrill and disturb me: thrill because it’s a steady and solid foundation, disturb because it’s still opaque and lacks solid character and dramatic nuance.  You’ll be hard pressed to find another comic like this, but be prepared to work a little for the payoff.  I only hope Tomao and Medors can keep the steam rolling and move this bad boy to a climax that proves worthwhile for all the work involved.  For a book this purposefully unclear, it’ll need one!

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For some tantalizing sneak peeks, check out Pogrom’s website: http://www.pogromthecomic.com