The Victorian #25

Posted: Saturday, March 5 By: Ray Tate Print This Item

Created and Developed by Trainor Houghton Writer: Len Wein Artists: Claude St. Aubin(p), James Taylor(i), Mike Garcia(c) Publisher: Penny-Farthing Press

The curtain closes on The Victorian. We began in act one way, way back with Fitzrandolph visiting an old man named Laszlo of whom we knew nothing of which his reminisces meant nothing, but now that the story ends, we know everything. That's how such a tale that begins at the ending and explains what was meant should coda.

The Victorian wove many threads. Parties unknown were launching a counterfeit racket, and the core of the racketeers seemed to be in New Orleans. Somebody was chasing ingénue photographer Eudora Kincaid. Detectives Shumpert and Keller were investigating mysterious men sightings. Submarines vanished and reappeared but without their complement of nuclear missiles. A vigilante known as the Hat shot darts that induced feelings of guilt and fear, and this same figure seemed to have saved young Fitzrandolph, his mother and his aunt, but how could that be given the time? And what of Trace, the Cajun cab driver who befriended Eudora? What also of the mysterious construction that seemed to map out a trail that led to a secret headquarters in the bayou?

The Victorian opened doors and closed them. Nothing was left hanging; the series had a beginning middle and end. It also was one of the most underrated finite comic book series in the industry. While the media was falling all over themselves by latching onto the Identity Crisis, The Victorian sailed by like a floating shroud. This series was simply a work of art. It did not rely on shock value but genuine surprise, which evolved naturally from the foreshadowed world of The Victorian.

The characters were multidimensional, and as the conclusion to the series shows. The play was not merely a morality fable of good versus evil but a philosophical argument based on the interpretation of Fredrick Nietzsche's Superman concept. This last chapter in the Victorian brings the rivalry between Laszlo and Sigurson to a boil as the usher of doomsday seats the players to view what Sigerson believes will be the new age of humankind.

Because of the characterization, Laszlo finds the allies he needs when he needs them, and the story works ultimately like clockwork. That's because every minute and every second was planned with precision in previous issues of the acts. Len Wein and ultimate plotter Trainor Houghton still however surprise with a pair of witty endnotes.

The Victorian had a number of good artists in its extraordinarily long independent history, and of late Claude St. Aubin has taken over the direction of the play. His work is marked by a very clear and concise quality, which benefited greatly a very complex timepiece. Usually by this time, the artist has essentially petered out, but Aubin's consistently quality art noveau based style comes through again in the final scenes of the final act.

Most striking is Aubin's composition and a respect though not slavery to detail. A key scene in the chapter Aubin subtly choreographs so you purposely miss it the first time around. He obfuscates what actually occurs through the setup of what seems to be the perfectly ordinary, and the stunning result he reveals forces the reader to turn back.

The Victorian was a masterpiece. The story dealt with big ideas and spanned them out in a comic book series that did the astonishing thing of ignoring the whole idea of padding. Every word, every scene of The Victorian was necessary for this final issue, and though I will miss seeing The Victorian on the racks and miss reading the adventure and intrigue, the finale was satisfying neopulp wonderment.

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