Returning to Hunter Ninja Bear

 

One of the things I’ve become painfully aware of is how shallow most reviews of geeky things are. It’s a sad fact that most geeky things are just poorly disguised cash grabs, flashes of “ooh shiny!” that are meant to distract us for two seconds from anything meaningful in our lives, as opposed to helping us find deeper meaning and peace where we’re at. Art, real art with depth, is usually set aside for a profit. There’s nothing inherently wrong with content, just that content and art need to be identified for what they are and their usefulness has to be accepted. 

Content is for when you’re tired and need a break.

Art is for helping you become better. Stronger. Wiser. Possibly a little sadder, as that’s usually what happens as a part of becoming any of those things.

Part of the problem is that most of us grew up on these corporate properties that were meant to sell toys, but found that the advertisements disguised as stories couldn’t not betray meaning, and so a lot of us connected with those toy advertisements as stories, as art. Humans are meant to find meaning in anything, to see the hand of God in all creation, so much so that even a naked toy commercial like Pokemon (or on a more personal level Digimon) can have a deeply profound impact on someone. 

And so, once hooked with something with even a modicum of meaning, the eternal chase begins for finding meaning. In toy commercials.

That’s not destined to make a toxic fan culture at all! 

Or make everyone feel beholden to the one kinda entity no one should ever feel allegiance to: corporations.

This loop hit me like a ton of bricks, ended my time with Marvel Champions, and subsequently most mainstream properties, all in one fell swoop. Since then I’ve tried to stick with things that I think strengthen me principally, while figuring out any form of a shtick for a blog that has any regularity without becoming a shill for something that doesn’t actually inspire me.

So when I realized that I could return to Hunter Ninja Bear and give a unique perspective, I was thrilled! Why is my perspective different, you might ask? Because I’ve genuinely been rereading this book once every three months, at the least. As in, I sit down and read it straight through, from beginning to end. In other words I actually love it, have spent time with it, and am unconcerned as to whether or not I benefit from a hype train.

First off, the binding on the book is starting to give way a little. In all the book feels solid in the hands, but on the closer inspection the glue is starting to give out. The paper has also smeared in a few spots, given it’s the same quality as the Big Two’s comics. That being said, it’s all in one tome and that’s handy! So overall there’s some wear and tear, but nothing worse than “the standard”, not even by a long shot.

The art is absolutely fantastic! Mel Rubi’s pencils are exactly my kind of style, with a fine eye for allowing the inker and colorist to work their magic. Rubi proves to me that one can make a color comic from the ground up. I honestly can’t think of a single illustration I don’t like. Rubi’s storytelling, however, is the real star of the show. He knows exactly how to set up a page, creating truly stunning compositions that I can just stare at for undefined amounts of time. Top notch all around!

That being said, Dixon’s script is the real star of the show here. This shouldn’t come as any surprise; Dixon is a legend for a reason, no matter how hard the mainstream tries to crap on his work. Dixon puts so many emotions and themes into this book, his narrative builds beautifully, and the slow burn goes nuclear at the end, while setting up for a sequel I’m honestly getting impatient for. 

Hunter Ninja Bear is the densest collection of emotions and themes I’ve ever encountered in a comic. Each location in the story is a confluence of histories, personalities, and emotions that don't feel constructed so much as discovered, in media res. The mixings of genuine hope, muted denial, and principled resentment of the ninja village are so strong that there's practically colors and soundtracks for each of them in my head. The same is true of the rage, comradery, and pragmatism of the Americans; these aren't places, they're microcosms. I think I reread Hunter Ninja Bear as much as I have because I feel like returning to these imaginal spheres of emotion. These places feel real to me in a way I've not run into for many comics. And the thing is that it's so freaking casual; the team don't really call attention to what they're doing. The atmosphere isn't well done, it is what makes the story works.

The narrative is an explosion of death and mayhem, leading to a journey divided into two parts: getting to America and getting back to Japan, all the while promising epic carnage at the end. Dixon understands his job, and so takes his time setting up all these characters, steeping you in that atmosphere I already mentioned, showing you what everyone thinks they are. Thinks. Because, when it all comes down to it, they all die screaming. What everyone thinks they are, whatever it is, it all dies about two seconds before their heart stops. There's something deeply raw and disturbing about the way everyone in this book dies. No stops are pulled out, everyone dies pitifully. The end is jarring, awful, and makes the journey before it... sad. Tragic. Event after event after event ends in a trainwreck of pain. And we're all headed for it. Like it or not. For whatever reason, these scenes give me strength. I know what the end will look like, no matter what the details are. Life is, on some level, about preparing for that moment at the end, about facing it as clearly as you can.

But perhaps the thing that makes it all work the hardest for me is the very end. I didn't really know the first two or so times reading this book how much I needed the ending. If anything, I got a little annoyed the first time around. The story was over! Why was the epilogue there? But honestly, if there's any particular reason why I keep rereading this collection of comics, it's because of that ending. I like that the book ends on its own two feet, running. The story doesn't end. It simply stops at a point where you know you'll want more.

Look, I'm not going to pretend to be a Chuck Dixon aficionado. This is honestly the first work of his I've ever read, directly. But there is something so freaking potent in this book, so primal, so elemental, that I keep coming back. I keep getting different stuff from it, from a line of dialogue I suddenly find moving for no particular reason but there it is, to a random facial expression, to even how the water is drawn. I don't know if anyone else will ever latch onto this book the way I have, but for me the book is magical. It reminds me of a part of me that I didn't know was still alive, and that I need to go find him. Somehow.

If something helps you remember you, how is it not art?