When this project was announced, everyone and their grandmother were doubting it. What with the plethora of non-comics Big Names wielding their supposed considerable commercial weight, many of our favorite fictional big names went under the surgical knives of these foreign invaders…and suffered. Ultimate Wolverine is still fighting the Hulk in some Tibetan limbo after the co-creator of Lost played his hand at writing a comic, and G*d only knows what went on in the spasmodic fit that Michael Chabon pulled with his million and one Escapist comics. Wonder Woman, who has always managed to get short-changed in spite of her supposed more-powerful-than-Superman-ness, fell before two comics imports—novelist Jodi Picoult, who decided that the best way to write the Amazon princess was as a clueless and un-acclimatized alien who’s scared of gas pumps and doesn’t know what a credit card is; and The O.C.’s Alan Heinberg, who decided, mid-storyline, not to write Wonder Woman at all.

Deep breath.

So: what are we to think when the singer for My Chemical Romance, which is known neither for being clever and twisted (like Lost) nor brilliantly original (like Chabon’s novel Kavlier & Clay) nor…well, without quality music like The O.C.? What we expected was Mark Waid’s wacky and smart and completely-sell-outy Fantastic Four at best, or a spasmodic Spawn clone at worst.

Instead, this is what we get:

Open on a wrestling ring. A purple and green octopus is wrestling someone who looks like a cross between a Cabbage Patch Kid and the governor of Minnesota. Stark, tongue-in-cheek noir narration commences. The disparate, still-noirish panels segue along at a frantic pace, beat-for-beat one of the best openings in recent comics history, culminating in the introduction of the leader of the mysterious Umbrella Academy—a figure with the antisocial tendencies of Professor X and the sense of humor of that bodyless guy who led the Doom Patrol—oh, hell, I’ll just let Way’s narration do its trick: “Enter, Sir Reginald Hargreeves. Olympic Gold Medalist and recipient of the Nobel Prize for his work in the cerebral advancement of the chimpanzee. Space alien.”

I can’t even tell you how the baby-snatching plays into it. Or Gabriel Ba’s brilliant art design that seems to be hovering resolutely in the 1920s and the 1890s at the same time, such a good idea that the need to plagiarize it burns inside my veins. By the end of the first issue, I don’t know exactly where they’re headed—although we get a solid story, with a few good hints—but, also, we don’t care.

Along the way, Way takes tricks from the Joss Whedon toolbox (characters cursing in Asiatic languages), the Grant Morrison toolbox (random-ass plot developments, malapropic deus-ex-machina inventions, and, of course, aliens) and from every postmodern toolbox in general—but when you’re having this much fun, who cares? We thought that Gerard Way would write comics like Avril Lavigne. Instead, he writes like the Book of Revelations. After this, I made sure to hunt down the Umbrella short story given out on Free Comic Book Day. Damn, I hope Dark Horse sends me the second issue.

I think I’ll take a second look at My Chemical Romance now, too.

After 6 years, 25 issues and a new artist and publisher, Rex Mundi finally begins its third act. With the end finally in sight, what else has changed in Arvid Nelson’s epic alternate-history thriller?

In a 1930’s Paris where magic is real and the Catholic Church never lost its grip on power, a prostitute is found murdered. She is covered in occult symbols cut into her skin, and a brilliant young doctor called Sauniere is drawn into the investigation. Shadowy agents of the Church seek to prevent it coming to light, and Sauniere goes on the run, though not before rekindling an affair with old flame Genevieve Tournon, the Duke of Lorraine’s physician. Eventually, they discover that the murder was connected to the mystery of Rennes-le-Chateau, and the lost tomb of the Merovingian king, Clovis II. The Duke of Lorraine seizes the French throne and invades Spain, and war breaks out across Europe.

In this issue, #7, the opening of the fifth volume, the Russians have seized Paris, but Lorraine continues to press on single-mindedly into Spain. Sauniere is in Rennes-le-Chateau, attempting to drink away the pain of the revelation that Genevieve has been acting as a spy for Lorraine. The mysterious masked Inquisitor, Brother Mordicant, takes him to Clovis’ tomb, and by working together, they finally gain access. The tomb is a map that points to their next destination, the Grail Castle – Catalonia.

For a long time it seemed like Rex Mundi wouldn’t make it this far. The first three volumes were issued through Image, and became progressively later as day jobs and personal issues pressed down. Then in a remarkable turnaround last year, original artist Eric J was replaced with Juan Ferrera, and they signed to Dark Horse, who gave them the platform (and presumably money) they’d always really needed. Issues began to come out regularly again. Now, with at least a year’s worth of issues still to come, there is talk of a movie being produced by Johnny Depp. Although hard-won, this is a remarkable success for a first title.

Rex Mundi is not entirely successful creatively, however. The story has become so complex that no single issue really makes sense on its own, though luckily the extended gaps between issues in the early years which made it nigh on impossible to follow seem to have ceased. Each issue includes a detailed story-so-far and character biographies, which help make things clearer. However, for a reader to come on board at this point – something which Dark Horse seem to be attempting to encourage – would be daunting indeed.

Although never actually plagiaristic, much of the story and setting are very familiar. Particularly, the Holy Blood and the Holy Grail material seems over-used in the wake of The Da Vinci Code, although it must be remembered that Rex Mundi started first. It also uses the styles of detective fiction, Gothic horror and even war thriller. Like a JK Rowling novel, the richly-imagined world and labyrinthine plot keep you turning the pages, but equally the clunky dialogue and awkwardly-inserted exposition often leave the reader exasperated. Furthermore, the back-matter, a fictional newspaper called “Le Journal de la Liberté”, never really works convincingly, neither moving the plot forward nor entertaining in its own right.

The art has improved dramatically since the move to Dark Horse, with Ferrera’s fluid pencils replacing Nelson’s laboured and static work. Ferrera’s work has a 1930’s Art Deco feel, which suits the story well, though sometimes verges on the cartoonish. The overall effect gives the impression of having been done quickly, but not carelessly. The story is told in a simple, classic style that lets the story flow smoothly without the reader ever becoming confused by experimental layouts or unclear transitions, recalling Hergé in technique, if not in style.

However, it is just this 1930’s picture-serial atmosphere that often seems to clash with Nelson’s aspirations for the series. This is occasionally underlined by histrionic lettering and dialogue worthy of George Lucas, and indeed Rex Mundi frequently comes across as a ham-fisted Indiana Jones rip-off. Nelson often seems unsure whether he is trying to write a Boy’s Own adventure or a serious piece of speculative fiction. He is too didactic for the former, but his characters too one-dimensional for the latter. Yet the story does manage to engage – it would seem unlikely that Rex Mundi would still be around otherwise.

Rex Mundi has a great deal of ambition, and unfortunately fails to live up to all of it. If you like a ripping yarn, and the thirties style and metaphysical overtones appeal to you, there is plenty here to keep you reading. If you’re already bored of Indiana Jones and religious conspiracy theories, there probably isn’t. Arvid Nelson must be praised for his determination, at least, and seems likely to be a fixture in the comics world for many years to come. Personally, I find there’s room for a consistent, old-fashioned yarn in my buying-pile.

Dark Horse and MySpace have teamed up to bring back Dark Horse Presents the comic company’s long-running anthology which had ended in September 2000. Started in 1986, Dark Horse Presents was the first comic published by Dark Horse, and was notably the first appearance of Concrete and the Sin City stories.

The inaugural issue is spectacular, but not groundbreaking as far as the creators go. Future issues, available exclusively on MySpace for the first week of every month, “will include a mix from both established, successful, comic creators as well as talented amateurs.” In this first issue, definitely check out Joss Whedon and Fabio Moon on Sugarshock, and Ron Marz and Luke Ross on Samurai: Heaven and Earth. The other two comics are also good, but, I mean, Joss Whedon and Fabio Moon…swoon.

DC is also entering the webcomics business with Zuda Comics, set to go live in October 2007. Unlike Dark Horse Presents, Zuda Comics will be entirely user generated, with anyone able to submit a sample of their comic. Then, each month, voters will decide the month’s best comics, and the winners will be given a one-year contract to publish their comic on Zuda. The exact contract is still unreleased, but according to DC president and publisher, Paul Levitz, “The copyright for each comic submitted to Zuda will be owned by its creator. DC will publish the winning/chosen comics under fairly conventional publishing agreements: initial payments for the work that is done, with royalties from revenues based on other uses, such as books, merchandise and movies/television shows.”

Zuda is a pretty great win/win situation. Some lucky creators get their comic published by DC (albeit through an online imprint), and DC gets a bunch of comics they know people will like (and, assumedly, a ton of ad traffic). And Dark Horse Presents isn’t too shabby either. Much more conventional than Zuda, it is still bound to showcase a lot of unknown creators, just as the original series did. (And it’s free!)

A fine time for the little guy, I’d say.