Revolver #1

Jul 1990; Cover price £1.65.
52 pages. Colour.
Fleetway Publications.

Edited by Peter K Hogan.

Cover by Rian Hughes.

Contents:

.2 We've Got the Thrill Power! in-house advertisement.

.3 Hello, This is Revolver Contents page / indicia.

.4 Purple Days UNTITLED part one, w: Charles Shaar Murray; a: Floyd Hughes, lettering by Gordon Robson.

15 Dan Dare, Pilot of the Future Dare part one, w: Grant Morrison; a: Rian Hughes, lettering by Ellie De Ville.

24 Pinhead Nation UNTITLED part one, w:/a: Shaky Kane.

26 Happenstance and Kismet UNTITLED part one, w: Paul Neary; a: Steve Parkhouse, colouring by Bernie Jaye.

32 Rogan Gosh UNTITLED part one, w: Pete Milligan; a: Brendan McCarthy, lettering by Tom Frame.

40 Dire Streets UNTITLED part one, w:/a: Julie Hollings, lettering by Eliza.

47 Nine Inches to the Mile w: Igor Goldkind; a: Phil Winslade, lettering by Bambos.

50 Outro text feature.

51 Marlboro Classics advertisement.

52 Into the Past With the Future advertisement.

For a little while at the start of the nineties Revolver was regarded as the future of British comics. A shade more mainstream than Crisis, yet skewing more towards the audience cultivated by Deadline rather than those who had been reading Eagle or 2000 A.D.. The style of the title is dominated by Rian Hughes, whose iconic design style permeates the comic without overloading on unnecessary elements - the contents page is remarkably clean and simple though doesn't feel under-developed.

Purple Days is a rich, textured and intelligent script, ably illustrated by Floyd Hughes, without relying on the any of the iconography associated with Jimi Hendrix. There's a warmth and humanity which draws the reader into the life of the musician, and certain panels still manage to punch above their weight, such as when Hendrix states that he has completely given up all drugs forever. The connected narratives spread across his life pull every ounce of drama to the fore, and there are moments which come as a surprise.

The end is, frustratingly, abrupt. One of the problems when dealing with serialised material which is intended to be collected is that it can often feel like the installments aren't sympathetically tailored to the anthology format. A minor quibble, all things considered.

Unfortunately I have to address Dare again.

It's an smart, well-put-together script, and Dan isn't wildly out of character, but there's something about the handling which feels off. It isn't necessarily that melancholy doesn't feel appropriate (being set at the end of his life), though that is partly responsible for the sense that this isn't so much a sequel as an alternate version entirely. The links with the original stories are maintained through Rian Hughes' art, which combines retro-futurism with simplified extrapolations of the design type which Hampson would likely approve.

While Dare works as a narrative, it is one which isn't in the spirit of the original, and feels more exploitative than nostalgic. I wanted to enjoy the story for what it was, but the beautiful Eagle stories loom large in the imagination. Without recognising the strengths of the moral certainty which made the character so appealing leaves a hollow centre to the story.

Pinhead Nation isn't really a story, per se, as it is a moment in the lives of the characters. Delightfully silly, and a palate cleanser after the hand-wringing of that strip. Shaky Kane's work is always entertaining, and this is one of the better introductions to his style.

Happenstance and Kismet is the best strip in the comic, with inventive language, clever plotting, and thoroughly unlikeable characters. Paul Neary is as accomplished at writing comics as drawing them so it shouldn't be surprising that he steals the show, but the writing here is mad. Lucius Kismet translates juicy stories for a French tabloid, and has a drinking problem who claims drunken ramblings are merely a sign of his loquacious lyricality, while Monty Happenstace is an inveterate gambler. Every panel is a delight.

The relatively sedate opening to Rogan Gosh suggests that a character study of Rudyard Kipling is on offer, but rapidly escalates into a series of surreal visuals and non-sequiters which culmitates in Rogan Gosh, a karmanaut sought out by Kipling, appearing in a present-day curry house rather than accepting death. It is incredibly difficult to judge the story from the first installment, as things aren't spelled out in a manner which enables complete comprehension of events.

Milligan is a writer who often surprises with concepts which are difficult to summarise properly, and who seems to take delight in being odd. With Rogan Gosh he pushes further against the structure and form of comics than at any other point, and most of the joy is to be had seeing how he manages to present his ideas. Brendan McCarthy does a superb job in maintaining a solidity to the fluid and free-wheeling plot, and provides some startlingly good illustrations,

Revolver doesn't rest on the madness Happenstance and Kismet or Rogan Gosh throws at the reader, as Dire Streets is a kitchen-sink drama with all the socially-relevant content required of the genre. There's a nice twist to the tale, but it feels rather lightweight after the previous material. Had the story appeared elsewhere, it is likely that it would have been lauded as a modern classic, showered with awards, and adapted for television.

Nine Inches to the Mile is back to being weird for the sake of being weird, but does so with such aplomb that it would be churlish to criticise it. The tongue-in-cheek script rattles along at a quick lick, and the art contains enough humourous elements to rise above similar non-stories which attempt something approaching philosophy.

The reference in Outro to a resurgence of British comics is, in retrospect, hopelessly optimistic, and the comparison to the sixties hangs too much hope on the thinnest of premises. As with most anthologies there is a disconnect between the strips which no amount of editorialising can brush over - there was never going to be a happy compromise among the readership for trippy, psychedelic material and the more grounded strips.

Would it have been better to launch two titles for the different audiences? Maybe. But brought together, the contents strangely work in unison to present a notion of the possibilities a full-colour mainstream title could accomplish. While uneven, and in places self-indulgent, Revolver is a remarkably likable comic. It is also a beautifully-designed comic, with enough small touches to retain interest even on the driest of text pages.