Satanika – Review

Satanika

(Verotik)
by Jef Taylor

Glenn Danzig, testosterone-inflated gargoyle and frontman for The Misfits and Danzig, has begun publishing and, in some cases (shudder), writing comics. Verotik Publishing, claiming to be the tenth largest comic book publisher in the country, boast an impressive bullpen of established writers and artists, including Frank “Didn’t he die a while ago?” Frazetta, Simon Bisley (Lobo, Batman-Judge Dredd) and Grant Morrisson (Animal Man, Arkham Asylum).

Verotika, the flagship title, is an anthology of “erotic horror,” sure to thrill fans of Cry For Dawn. Brutally violent and rape-laden, it was difficult to find anything erotic about the stories within the first two issues. Beginning with “Obscenity,” a tauntingly-named, abruptly-ending tale written by Danzig himself, issue one pummels the reader with the bloody rape of a mortal woman by a demon. Made yet more dizzying by an unprofessional jerking between vertical and horizontal page layout, Bisley’s art revels in the carnal and visceral. The ugliness of the first half is barely over when the almost excruciatingly uncomfortable Morrison story, “The Braille Encyclopediae,” begins. Recalling Hellraiser and, yet again, very explicit, is this story of a blind woman who enters a secret society by enduring a host of degradations. The society is one of the living encyclopedia, unholy knowledge scarred in braille on their bodies. “You still care…” she utters, as the leader, L’index, urinates on her head.

The second issue is a less painful experience to read. Again, it opens with a story designed to push reactionary buttons, this time a typical come-uppance yarn with AIDS as the revenge weapon. The second story actually has some wit to it, and a lightheartedness despite the constant incest we are shown. “The Room Where Love Lives,” also by Morrison, features a pair of Ghostbusters resembling Holmes and Watson who must exorcise a haunted room which induces irresistible sexual urges, drawing all who enter, into the clusterfuck. The narration and dialogue are entertaining, and it’s fun to show your friends the multi-penised flesh glob in the “Horney Chamber.”

Satanika is written by the lead misfit of Verotik: Glenn himself. It is the apparently continuing saga of the title character, a half-demon, half-heavily muscled woman, spawned from the rape in “Obscenity.” In her debut issue, the cloven-hooved heroine nonchalantly dismembers, silently broods, and provides gratuitous beaver shots. This comic book seems especially interested in offending our sensibilities.

The narration reads “Rape… it’s not very pretty” over a sequence of panels including close-ups of the penetration and the faces of the rapist and his victim. Clearly, Danzig and artist Duke Mighten feel we must look ugliness and horror square in the face. The desired effect, one imagines, is to peak our craving for gory justice, which Satanika predictably metes out when she blunders into the scene. Limbs are ripped off, eyes poked out, and least surprisingly, a penis is torn off. It’s a scene differing from a typical sequence from Spawn only in the gender of the agent of vengeance, her lack of clothing, and the matter-of-fact in-your-faceness of the violence. In fact, readers of Image Comics and fans of Tim Vigil’s Faust are most likely to enjoy Satanika, provided they can stomach it.

Proving that fandom is not quite done with its serial killer fascination is Alphabet of Murder, by Bad Otis Link. This slick 5″ by 6 1/2″ is an abecedarium, a poem of the alphabet made for adults by Edward Gorey’s Gashleycrumb Tinies (“A is for Amy, who fell down the stairs…”) Similarly morbid, Alphabet summarizes the infamy of 26 killers, in jolly verse. The drawings are nice; caricatures somewhere between the styles of Drew Friedman and Dan Clowes. The poems are sometimes clever (“C is for Chase/His first name is Rich/He is a bloodsucking son of a bitch…”), sometimes less so (“M is for Manson/A family man/this cat’s the Guru of The Cult of the Damned”). Moral nitpicking reveals an anti-gay streak throughout (“O is Ottis/Stupid Fag Loner…”), that undermines the otherwise cheerful, if creepy, tone of the book. It would be a bargain at a $1.50, but unfortunately, it actually costs $4.95, pricing it beyond all but the diehard murder fan.

Verotik’s press material boldly declares, “Glenn Danzig – on the verge of inciting a cultural revolution.” Pretty audacious words from an aging rocker trampling into a new form of expression. The truth is, the cultural revolution in comics was well in progress when Danzig got there, and covering old ground with a slick veneer may sell a lot of comic books, but won’t contribute much to the art form.