BIOMEGA, Vols. 1-3 by Tsutomu Nihei (Viz 2010)

In a future that's equal parts Blade Runner and Gormenghast, a zombie virus from Mars (spread by spores from a dead astronaut in low-orbit over the earth following a reentry disaster) turns legions of humans into gruesome "drones." A number of awesomely cool and superpowered "synthetic humans" ride around on awesomely cool motorcycles, trying to deal with the epidemic and find a cure. Megaconglomerate corporations have taken over the functions of nation states in this future, so these badass bikers are agents of Toa Heavy Industry, and find themselves opposed by superpowered agents of the Data Recovery Foundation, which has some weird "shock doctrine" agenda for perpetuating and manipulating the chaos to its own advantage.

Oh, and there's a talking bear with a rifle. Yes, really:

The main draw here is the art. The gorgeous detail and sheer energy crucially revitalize a lot of tropes and images that might otherwise seem stale and warmed-over.

Nihei's background is in architecture, and it shows. Whether we're talking about a megacorp's cyberpunkish ziggurat headquarters, a Piranesian gothic edifice, or an eyeful of cityscape, his renderings are to be savored:



He also wondrously conveys a thrilling experience of motorcycle speed. My guess is that his combined use of point of view and panel size in the page below is pretty basic, nuts-and-bolts cartooning, but it strikes me as quite effective. The long aerial shot offers the least immediate experience of speed, and the generous panel size reinforces that. The switch to a frontal shot of the oncoming motorcycle offers a more immediate experience of speed, as reflected in the smaller panel. The panel constricts further, suggesting the greatest rapidity, in the first-person shot from the motorcyclist's pov.

And in the page below, the use of curvature suggests an experience of speed intense enough to warp the perception of space:

I like the flare in the right side of the lower panel and the accompanying sound effect, marking the point where the oncoming motorcycle passes and the implied spectator turns her head to watch it zoom away. The contraction of the lower panel here serves basically the same function as in the previous example, to suddenly accelerate the action and give a certain torque to the experience.

Best of all, Nihei combines spectacular architectural vistas with breathtaking motorcycle action in a couple of extraordinary sequences in which his characters bound rooftop-to-rooftop, superhero-style, on motorcycles. That poor bear is along for both rides, and the second one actually makes him toss his cookies:

Another strength I have to mention is that Nihei's character designs are all superb. Hero Zoichi Kanoe and heroine Nishu Mizunoe are the most generic of the lot, androgynous twins in the Matrix-y Neo-and-Trinity mold, and yet they always look fantastic and suitably badass in their motorcycle gear:




The zombies, or "drones," are as disgusting as they should be, as meticulously detailed as Nihei's architecture:


Even scarier than the drones, however, are the über-creepy members of the Data Recovery Foundation and its subsidiary, the Public Health Service, all of whom seem multifariously designed within the narrow range of masked slashers. This is most notable among the elite enforcers like Higuide:

. . . and this nightmarish woman:

. . . and this butcher-aproned weirdo:

. . . but it also holds for the stormtrooper grunts:

. . . and, absurdly, for even the ordinary executives in suits:

. . . but the spookiest of all is the Foundation's Matriarch, Niarudi:

Unfortunately, out of all these gorgeously-designed characters, the only one with even a hairsbreadth of depth is Kozlov Leifovich Grebnev--the bear. Despite that image of him with the rifle that pops up in almost every review, despite the apparently fearsome hook-hand he sports from Vol. 2 on, and despite the fact that he's, um, a fucking grizzly bear, he's repeatedly shown to be the most human and vulnerable of the characters in this series. He's the only one shown to have a childhood:


He's the only one shown to have biological needs like eating and sleeping:


The reason for the hook-hand is, that bastard with the apron blasts his paw off in the first volume. He needs to be rescued repeatedly, by both Zoichi:

. . . and Nishu:

I wouldn't go so far as to say he's a well-rounded character, but he's the only one here that isn't an outright cipher.

The story, I'm afraid, is as thin and slapdash as the characters. In fact, it's thin and slapdash because of the characters, who seem to be there mainly to look cool doing whatever Nihei wants to draw them doing. Although it's usually clear enough what's happening, it's seldom clear why, and Nihei is frustratingly stingy with exposition and dialogue that might explain it. Motives are often so inscrutable, I have to wonder if he even bothers to think them up. Why are these megacorps pursuing these agendas? Why is he doing this, and she doing that? What are these people fighting over? I was amused, but not much, to see that some of the characters in-story shared my confusion:


Good question!

Nihei's guiding narrative principle seems to be the Rule of Cool, and he simply relies on the strength of his art to sell it all. That, and the sheer adrenaline momentum of the many action scenes. Here's a great spread of pages of Nishu in combat (remember: right to left):

And I love this kill-shot by Zoichi:

Given the visual intensity of such scenes, I suppose it's fair to say that seeing is believing, and who cares about the whys and wherefores? It's disappointing, though, that Nihei seems content to deliver a visual tour-de-force, when just a little more effort toward answering such questions or clarifying his answers to them could elevate Biomega into another level of quality altogether.

Bottom line? Biomega looks absolutely fucking fantastic--but so did Blackest Night, and I didn't give it a pass, either. For all the itches Biomega scratches, it's hardly satisfying. I can recommend it, with the above reservations, to anyone intrigued by this review, and I'll check out the next volume, but it has no business being anything less than a must-read. One thumb up, and one unhappily sideways.