Collecting issues #1-3 of the re-launched Criminal series.

The third volume of Criminal takes a different approach from the first two collections as it presents three separate but interconnected vignettes that function as standalone one-shot stories that also come together to form a larger tapestry. This approach allows the writer, Ed Brubaker, to examine his wider story from three distinctive viewpoints--giving each of this three central characters a compelling arc of development while tying their lives together in subtle and inventive ways.

The three protagonists of the vignettes will be familiar character types for lovers of the noir genre:

• The proud, noble boxer with humble roots who achieves success but who eventually falls foul of his organised crime connections;
• The alcoholic, self-destructive criminal who convinces himself that one big score can solve all his problems;
• And the hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold who longs to escape the drudgery of her existence but who keeps getting pulled back in.

However, all three stories develop these characters into far more satisfying and rounded personalities than the clichés that those descriptions suggest.

Gnarly, the boxer who is the protagonist of the first vignette, is a character who will already be familiar to readers of Criminal. He’s the bartender from the Undertow bar that appeared in the first two story arcs. However, his story here turns the calendar back to the 1970s to show his rise and fall as a fighter. We also get the (somewhat predictable) progression of his friendship with the young Sebastian Hyde as Gnarly gets further drawn into Hyde's criminal machinations--and a girl ultimately comes between them.

Teeg, the protagonist of the second vignette, also connects this volume with the stories in the first two volumes. He's the father of Tracy and Ricky Lawless from volume two. His violent, selfish tendencies are portrayed unflinchingly by Brubaker who never shies away from Teeg’s abusive actions or wild, debauched drinking binges (Teeg's blackouts and memory lapses due to his alcoholism are cleverly represented as completely black panels that are interspersed between other non-sequitur story panels).

However, Brubaker also manages to evoke a modicum of sympathy for Teeg, with an unexpected twist to his story that lands him in deep water with the Hyde family--leading to a bloody finale that also sheds some new light on the backstory of Tracy Lawless (of which we only saw a few glimpses in the previous volume).

Finally, the third vignette focuses on Danica, whose story is perhaps the most tragic of the three. Brubaker writes a surprisingly convincing female lead--the first to appear in the series--proving that he has a lot to say about society's attitudes towards women, as well as about the use of female characters in fiction.

Brubaker doesn't try to glamorise or eroticise his subject matter to provoke a gratuitous thrill. Instead, he tells a story that doesn't pull any punches--from the brutal and abhorrent way in which Danica is recruited into prostitution, througt the gradual erosion of her youthful vigour as she learns to use sex as a weapon, all the way to the utterly desensitised and hollow figure that she becomes by the end of the book.

Brubaker also pulls off a smart trick with the character by encouraging readers of the first two vignettes to view Danica in the same way that the other characters do before using this final chapter to show the same relationships from her own point of view. In doing so, he contrasts her inner sensitivity and naiveté with her apparently straightforward and hard-edged outward appearance--painting a very different picture of the character than came across in her appearances as a supporting character in the first two chapters.

As with previous Criminal stories, there's a certain timelessness to the three stories in this volume. Without the modern trappings, the basic plot outlines and themes of the stories could feel just at home in a 1940s noir movie, or even a 19th-century Old West setting. However, there's a definite sense that this particular volume is attempting to evoke a specific Blaxploitation vibe in places--due, at least in part, to the 1970s era of the story, which takes place against a backdrop of major shifts in society's attitudes towards race relations.

Brubaker makes race an important component of all of his characters, but he provides a good variety of character types (Gnarly is a black character from a modest backgroun, Sebastian is a rich white youth, Teeg is a poor white ex-soldier, and Danica is a fairly well-to-do black girl who is ultimately corrupted beyond redemption by the criminal world). Their interactions frequently (and convincingly) reflect the social attitudes of the era.

Artist Sean Phillips plays an important role in evoking this cinematic atmosphere--with character models that faithfully evoke the fashions of the '70s, (Danica’s appearance might easily be based on Pam Grier). Colourist Val Staples plays his part too, employing slightly more vivid hues than usual that really work to capture the ugly harshness of the neon-lit bars and dank backstreets where much of the action takes place. Shaft is name checked explicitly in a passage of Brubaker’s dialogue, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the creators had looked to that movie (and its ilk) for inspiration whilst working on these stories.

However, The Dead and the Dying reflects even more modern influences, too--such as the decidedly Pulp Fiction-esque structure of connected short stories that occur out of chronological sequence. Brubaker uses this structure to his advantage, with many plot points from the first or second issues only becoming fully comprehensible once you possess information from the third. That said, this quality doesn't impede enjoyment of the book on a first read. Instead, it serves to enrich the experience and ensure that this volume will definitely stand up to multiple readings.

There are still a few flaws that prevent the book from being perfect. For instance, there's a certain predictable inevitability about many of the character arcs that makes it difficult to really be surprised when the stories reach their conclusion. There are also occasions when the dialogue strays into the realms of parody rather then playing it straight (particularly with Danica, who has a tendency to utter slightly cringe-worthy lines like “All pussy may drive men crazy . . . but my pussy was a deadly weapon”).

However, Brubaker's grasp of street speech and patter is convincing for the most part, and the storytelling is some of the most mature and accomplished that I've seen from the writer. Phillips's art is a perfect match for the tone of the book. Together, they manage to create a dense and satisfying book that feels simultaneously both familiar and unique. I’m still waiting for Criminal to achieve absolute greatness, but this third collection is a very worthwhile read nevertheless.

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