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Mr. T: The Graphic Novel

By Al Kratina
May 26, 2008 - 19:39

Criticism is all about approach. While there are elements of any artistic expression that can be evaluated objectively - the perspective in a comic book splash page, for instance, or a kung-fu film's dubbing – their cumulative effect can only be evaluated subjectively, and that determination is inevitably influenced by the reviewer’s initial expectations.

To approach Mohawk Media’s new Mr. T graphic novel as a crude, meaningless exercise in the half-hearted exploitation of nostalgia is  valid, but uninteresting; to herald it as a joyful rejuvenation of an 80s icon is indefensible and probably symptomatic of some sort of degenerative mental illness. But to interpret this book, with its ridiculous plot, catch-phrase-belaboured dialogue, and senseless excess, as a glorious visual paean to 80s action movies is to truly abandon oneself to mindless enjoyment. And so, I made a decision four pages into this graphic novel to treat this monstrosity like the Road House of sequential storytelling.

Mr. Jesus

For those unfamiliar with Road House, I invite you to screen the legendary Patrick Swayze film. It’s not good, it’s not bad, and it’s certainly not so bad it’s good: it’s just Road House, a film about a legendary bouncer (yes. A bouncer) that features Zen philosophy and a third-act shotgun massacre that would have made Sam Peckinpah sober up and cheer. The Mr. T comic has a similarly ludicrous premise, with T. as a famous bodyguard.

Of course, the real-life Mr. T was an actual bodyguard, but that doesn’t make the first few pages of the book, where’s he’s kidnapped by the FBI and forced to protect a defence contractor, any easier to swallow. Especially when he then fights a guy in a robot suit. With his fists. At this point, like Road House, the audience must commit to the book, and commit fully. It’s hard, especially because about 10 pages later, T is saving a paraplegic girl from crazy lumberjacks, but great rewards come to those who succeed. By the end of the book, T is fighting a child-raping priest, a British team of super-assassins has appeared, and I am very confused as to whether this is a book for kids or adults who write WWE plotlines.

The art in the book, by J.L. Czerniawsky, is broad but capable, though the style is uniform to the point of being occasionally uninteresting. As for Christopher Bunting’s script, the complexity of the plot belies the simplicity of the storytelling, which makes for an enjoyably insane ride most of the time, but gets quite confusing towards the end, where key information is delivered far too late in a massive 25 panel page. Also, there’s one page with an archer hunting a Yeti that appears to be from another comic. Or maybe Road House.

Rating: 5 /10

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