Comic books were a part of my formative years. Since I have memory, I’ve been surrounded by comic books and comic book readers. From the Novaro and Editorial Vid translations that added Mexican colloquialisms to the deluge of import comics we had in the late 80s, early 90s, reading was a nice bit of escapism. Don’t get me wrong, I also read too many books in lieu of a social life, but the visual aspect of comics was an extra layer of “wow!” factor.

Not everyone in my family was impressed, but they just went along with it, I guess. “Reading is reading” said my dad, and he probably thought of the pulpy sci fi comics he read as a younger person. If he ever bought me a comic, it would be space-themed, hence anything with Jack Kirby found a way to my collection.

Most of my collection got ruined by two incidents: a silverfish infestation and then a water leak due to excessive waterproofing of the roof. Water found a way.

I mostly buy TPBs now. I stopped buying comic books on the regular once my cd collection overtook my life (and my budget). Still love a good arc from any comic book publisher.

On the subject of comic book films, I’m two minds about them. I hate the term “slop” or “superhero fatigue”, but box office numbers are a telling story. I enjoyed Superman and Thunderbolts just fine, but we all know they weren’t the hits the studios expect. They have other sources of revenue, though, so it’s not a catastrophe.

I do have three comic book films that I adore with all my heart. These are not in order and their gold, silver, and bronze status changes with my mood. Spiderman 2 with Tobey Maguire is a definite keeper and family friendly. American Splendor broke my heart and made me guffaw like a jackass at the same time and I’ll dedicate an entire post to that masterpiece soon enough.

Dredd completes the trifecta. Saw it the same day as I saw The Sweeney on cinemas in Sheffield, and it was a audiovisual spectacle like no other. The gritty visual, the mad pacing, the set design. It’s so perfect without being cheesy, it’s serious with enough humour, it’s thrilling without exhausting you with action. Karl Urban’s best performance, paired with Lena Headley’s cold, meticulate archnemesis. Olivia Thirlby’s Anderson is a wide-eyed, semi-mutated rookie and you get enough exposition to know her life in Mega City 1 without boring your face off. Wood Harris and Domhall Gleeson are great as Ma-Ma’s henchmen, and you just know they aren’t there willingly. Pete Travis’ direction always keeps a good geographic sense of where in the building you are. Alex Garland decides to actually make a great third act (sorry, Sunshine fans).

Paul Leonard-Morgan’s soundtrack has some of your bog standard action bits, enough to satisfy your johns and janes in the audience, but it’s the tracks where the effects of slo-mo where the music shines. Slo-mo is the synthetic drug Ma-Ma peddles, and its addictive nature and destructive after effects are almost like an impressionist painting. Lively colours, splashes of sweat, blood, and water, a blurry outline. It’s up to Dredd and Anderson to stop both Ma-Ma and a squad of corrupt cops in this tight action flick that sadly didn’t do well at all, and doesn’t seem to have a continuation in its future. It matters not, the fact that this movie exists and stopped being compared to Stallone’s 95 cheesy (but lovable) flop is enough for me.

-Sam J. Valdés López