Jeff Smith works the prestige magic on the little Marvel Boy at DC. It's a back flash with a step into where Captain Marvel came from and the wizard Shazam. Smells glossy.

Pricey, as expected for the format, binding is tight as a fist with a severed nerve making it unable to open anymore. Bit of a squeeze in reading much like any other comic for simple consumption that isn't in with a collection.

Cute is the large beacon of light which signals this incarnation of the tale. After all, when it's Smith working his magic, there is little chance that it will bear out any other kind of result. And the charm and ball of goodness that it is makes well of this fact. Or perhaps that's the back of the brain talking to the tip of the tongue. Slight knock on the head when looking up will do that.

Having made no effort in prior reading on who this character with the massive bolt down his front, it's an enjoyable and easy read. Nothing is made to grapple at lingering nuances or threads from other series in the canon and with the 12 Step program by Judd Winick on the shelves, reads fine without accompaniment. Damn accessible thus far.

 

Things are in a real swing, with the trio of the Night Nurse, Wong and Doctor Strange working well together. Throw them down and into the situation they face currently, and it's like they're at their best in this particular incarnation.

Wonderfully visions of pseudo acid tripping moments from that particular time too close to the sun under the weak awning make an appearance in this mind spree. A veritable shuffle board game right into the heart of what makes Doctor Strange a smart and calmly cool character.

Mystic arts don't seem as fun and light-hearted and manically meshed too deep with the business world like it is here. A pause here and there working it like the little bitty push pig trying to save his pork rind of a hide.

 

Throw in a film with Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Michael Caine and Scarlett Johansson with Christopher Nolan on directing duties. Slap the thick atmosphere and feel of the late 19th century with a lemon twist of magic and illusion, and it's hard to figure out how it can possibly disappoint. Pop in a bit of David Bowie and Andy Serkis and the climb gets a whole lot sweatier with The Prestige.

Two magicians at the top of their game and even that's not enough. The lengths at which they will go to to outdo each other beyond the realm of sanity is just unbearable and unflinchingly excruciating. Dedication, deception and deliverance.

The word d?nouement sounds really great with a French accent. Not that that has anything to do with anything. Really.

Bale hangs on a smooth Londoner's tongue that the setting is pretty much complete on his turn of the talk. Jackman is a crazily obsessive man that following him on his journey is one that breaks a bit of the heart. Watching these two face off against each other is well fine. A grand sense of magic alone in their scenes together.

Obsession never lets go and that sense of despair that permeates the side arm rests ultimately leaves the mind rattling away in a rather disturbed set after watching the burn and flicker.