Quicksilver in the kitchen

 

Bryan Singer's X-Men movies never really came together as complete films, and were often flabby and played so low at times that the sheer charisma of the generally excellent casts was the only thing keeping them above water. 

But they all had great individual scenes, and portrayed characters' powers in ways that were often thoughtful and interesting.  There were times they could be uninspired - they never really got hold of what Storm was capable of, and Cyclops brought nothing new to the party - but the Quicksilver scenes; or Nightcrawler in the White House; or some of the vibrant antics of the Last X-Men On Earth's fight against the sentinels in the Future Past movie, (especially Blink's teleportation holes), were memorable and rewatchable in ways most superhero films just are not.

The Quicksilver thing was so effective they did it all over again in the next movie, even as the scripts twisted themselves into knots to explain why they didn't just use Pietro to save everybody all of the time. And while that run of X-Men films has run its course, and the mutants have some kind of a MCU future ahead of them, the freaky nature of their powers in these original films still lingers.

Love and Rockets: And love is everything

I'm always been on Team Jaime, man. It's the easier option - his art has a flowing beauty that remains intoxicating after years of high-grade comics. And his Locas tales are some of the greatest stories I've ever read in any medium, and have an emotional resonance built over decades of human growth. His comics span the length of a lifetime, and can be funny and goofy and scary in a way nobody else can touch.

Whenever I get a new issue of Love and Rockets - and it remains one of life's great little pleasures to do so - it's almost always Jaime's comics that I go for first. I always get to Beto, but it's the misadventures of Maggie and the gang that I always need to mainline.

Gibert's comics are still absolutely marvelous, and the older Hernandez can do something like a Poison River or a Human Diastrophism and make it all look so easy. And sometimes, his comics are the strongest thing in an issue.

Beto's story in the most recent issue is just staggering - the sheer simplicity of it, just two people in love, wandering around a bunch of sand dunes, and so happy in the moment. It's blatantly sentimental, and all the better for it, because we could all use a little more sentiment in these bleak fuckin' times.

There is also something about the way it compliments the story behind the cover of this issue - a tribute to somebody who gave up on some dreams of art for family, and ending up raising two of the finest artists in modern comics - that comes with a real emotional kick.

Jaime's Princess Anima thing has been going on forever, and has had nowhere near the soulful resonance of the Hoppers crew, but was never intended to be. It's been a blast to read, even if I could never quite untangle the convoluted continuity of this sci-fi wonderland, and has come to a surprisingly bloody climax. It's great comics, but Beto's stuff is more haunting, and somehow more essential for these times.

Love and Rockets is still the best comic in the world.