Fell #1-3

Genre noir Starring Written By Warren Ellis Publisher Image Comics External Links Image Comics

"My new home... I think maybe a lot of people killed themselves here."

That's the way, ah-huh, ah-huh, I like it... Oh god, yes-the severely dark art, the super crisp narrative, the intense depth of character is a grateful step away from the tired traditional fare lining the shelves these days. It certainly pushes Fell into the slimy-grimy superb spotlight of success.

From the beginning, writer Warren Ellis explains how he setout to break the standing tradition of those costly, ad-filled comics that his fans simply stopped collecting. His answer was to offer a self-contained, no ads, and cheaper priced book to attract a new breed to the fold. Only slightly better, less comic for less the price, his concept was inevitably salvaged by the high quality of the content. After all, content rules the most.

Fell offers 16 brilliant pages of art and text with an additional four pages aptly entitled "Backmatter", whereby Ellis dissects the story you've just read. In a word: outstanding. Ellis and Templesmith have flipped the mainstream off and dared it to catch up, and I am, dear eclectic heavies, surely hooked for good. I keep walking into my local comic book store and like some snot-nosed kid, stand in the isle staring at the empty display rack, as if the next issue will suddenly appear; a reward for my unabashed loyalty I guess. But honestly, I just need the next issue to shoot directly into my arm.

Fell introduces us to a laid-back young detective named Richard Fell who finds himself assigned to the real seamy municipality dubbed Snowtown (he gets sliced and diced more than once just to prove it). In a nine part panel grid he uncovers all kinds of wacky homicidal happenings that involve everything from religious-spouting murderesses to a Richard Nixon masked nun. He also scores with an Asian woman who brands him with a red-hot bloody poker-sweet. And although we have cases solved within each and every issue, there are lots of intriguing subplots to worship and adore. For Richard Fell investigates just like the real-deal; he finds clues, hints of character, and connects the crimson dots like other infamous detectives of the lore.

But the art, boss, the art keeps me glued for sure; turning pages cautiously for fear of missing delicate tips of something even more. For Ben Templesmith's imagery is so rich in texture, quite sinister in style, dead-on, that it's perfect for the jaded CB fanatics primed on multimillion-dollar superhero flicks. Our visual palates are so full, that devious suggestion rather than perfectly inked lines places us right there; you can almost smell the urine and the blood.

So, get your ass moving. What are you waiting for? Comic book addictions are the only way to go. And Ellis and Templesmith have provided quite the score. And its right there on the shelves of your local comic book collective; the place where you'll find me, complete with a red S-X smoldering on my neck, drooling, staring at the wall.