Review: Curse Words #1

Written by Alisha Weinberger

New York City is home to a plethora of beard-os and mustachioed folks. Be it the gentrified hipster or sidewalk vagabond, but a wizard? Either way, New Yorkers probably wouldn’t think twice unless it was for a Snapchat or Tweet.

When the interdimensional evil Wizord arrives in Manhattan with plans to transform it into a black metal music video, he has a change of heart and a penchant for the city that never sleeps. Along with Margaret, a transmutational talking koala, Wizord swears allegiance to the people of Earth. Helping the poorest of the poor to Bieber-esque pop stars, Wizord becomes a social media sensation and invites the fury of his betrayed overlords.

Soule and Browne capture the jaded humor of the Big Apple, along with over the top, Tolkien fantasy. The clashing of the mundane and the magical comes in the form of metatextual Tweets and narration (i.e. #teammargaret). The quick acceptance of the existence wizards and sorcery in the world, allows the book to save heavy exposition for the developing story arc. Instead, the creative team focuses the reader on the tongue-in-cheek tone with some hilarious dialogue.

Curse Words has a great color palette of neons and pastels, causing the ending magical brawl to pop. Hopefully the creative team won’t hold back on the great character designs to come, such as Botchko, the Mighty Hogtaur (half man, half pig if you haven’t guessed). The line work is a bit on the heavy, blotchy side and page layouts are a tad repetitive, but it’s nothing a little cleaning up won’t fix.

You shall not pass…on Charles Soule and Ryan Browne’s Curse Words. Fans of Deadpool will appreciate the metatext and millennial satire, Rick and Morty lovers or any Adult Swim viewers will love the tongue-in-cheek combination of the fantastical and mundane.

Rating: 9/10

Alisha Weinberger is a comic book, video game, and animation enthusiast and critic. Along with comic reviews, she also maintains The Pop Break twitter feed. Alisha thoroughly enjoys the warm embrace of coffee, says "dawg" and "dope" ad nauseam, and shares a reluctant resemblance to Tina Belcher.