From Publishers Weekly
Hernandez combines magical realism with the glories of a pulp movie in this comic adaptation of an imaginary movie starring Rosabella Fritz Martinez from
Love and Rockets. In this tale, four characters living on the fringes of society cross and double-cross each other in the quest for money and erotic pleasure. Wes, an aspiring rocker, plots to steal $200,000 from drug dealer Dewey, with the help of a bombshell magician's assistant named Nala. The devious pixie Vincenze complicates matters, and soon no one knows whom to trust. Hernandez employs uniform panels in the proportions of a movie screen to emphasize the cinematic inspiration and tone of the story. Each one almost vibrates with the frenetic, desperate energy of the characters as they try to pull off their cons. That energy explodes in the final pages, as the story comes to a dramatic but ambiguous conclusion. In the end, the work offers an homage to B-movies while standing out as a graphic novel.
The Troublemakers will please long-term Hernandez fans. It also should serve as a good introduction to newcomers looking to jump into the
Love and Rockets universe.
(Dec.) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
Hernandez’s work is divisible into Love and Rockets stories chronicling the lives of the extended family of sisters and daughters and freestanding, one-off graphic novels. Here he mingles those two types in a piece that’s ostensibly a B-movie starring sometime-actress Fritz, an L&R mainstay. She plays Nala, one of a trio of grifters—the others are failed rock musician Wes and his ex-lover Vincene—trying to separate drug dealer Dewey from an ill-gotten $200,000. In typical genre fashion, all three are wily but ultimately none-too-bright. The outlandish plot piles double-crosses upon double-crosses, leading up to an over-the-top, apocalyptic denouement. It’s pulpy fun that, appropriately, has the dashed-off, anything-goes spirit of a straight-to-video caper flick. The cinematic feel is accentuated by Hernandez’s use of uniformly sized panels matching the proportions of a wide-screen film. While this self-imposed restriction limits the artist’s visual flourishes, it accentuates his other graphic strengths—powerfully bold compositions, vivid character design—as well as serving to ground the often-hyperbolic goings-on. --Gordon Flagg