Loki: Ragnarok & Roll #1: Rock and Thud

 

Melding comic book characters with the idea of the “rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle” mostly elicits the groans of the lactose intolerant, as the cheese factor becomes unbearable.  There are only two roads this unholy union can take. Either a series that tries way too hard to be edgy, comedic, or both, or one that tries too hard to be dark, comedic, or both. The new Boom Studios title, Loki Ragnarok And Roll, falls with a tepid thud on the side of the former.

In this version of Asgard, Odin is a dick, Loki is more of a salesman, and Thor is a frat jock idiot. This is not off to a great start. Odin sends his two sons to Jötunheim, the land of the Frost Giants, on a diplomatic mission. Being that Thor is a moron in this story, he immediately begins to smash Frost Giants, ending the diplomacy before it even begins. Odin is not happy with this, but fears losing Thor as a weapon. In order to maintain his dominance, Odin sends Loki to Earth as “punishment.”

Luckily, Loki lands in front of a place called, wait for it, Club Sinister. The logo of the club is a smiling pair of lips with vampire teeth. Who would populate such a club? Why cool goth kids of course. Nobody with any personality or individuality, but a whole lot of kids cloned from old Marilyn Manson videos and Suicide Girls. Naturally, Loki is attracted to the skin and rock vibe of the club, so he starts a band.

Jump ahead to some point in the future. Loki is now a full on “rocker.” His band has t-shirts, and Loki has carved out a rocker life for his rocker self and his rocker friends. Darn it! Wouldn’t ya know it! Thor shows up at the end, which could spell a bad time for rocker Loki. Writer Eric M. Esquivel has decided to leave the concept of originality out of Loki Ragnarok and Roll entirely. The idea is cliché; the characters are cliché, the concept, at least in issue one, reeks of cliché. It also spends entirely too much time trying to remind us how clever it is. Imagine reading the comic book equivalent of the guy who tells dirty jokes because he desperately wants everyone to think he’s funny. That’s Ragnarok snd Roll.

Jerry Gaylord’s art doesn’t fair any better. He is so preoccupied with making every panel over the top that they just become goofy. I appreciate the attempt at frenetic energy, but it fails here because it is empty. A bad story with art that tries too hard does nothing but give you a headache. Much like the cliché characters, Gaylord’s illustrations of them, especially in the club, are laughable creations of somebody who must have never set foot in a nightclub in his life. Girls with names like “Impurity”? Give me a break.

 

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