No Hero #1 (OF 7)

I bet when Mark Millar read No Hero #1, his first thought was "Now wait a damn minute!"  No Hero feels so much like Millar's Wanted that it could almost be a companion piece.  No Hero tells the story of an ordinary person that gets caught up in the secret world of super beings who feel that they are above the law.  In it we have the naive protagonist, the manipulative mastermind, and the smart, sexy, and obviously dangerous femme fatale.  Sounds familiar, right?  Yes, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Of course, there are fundamental differences between the two books.  For one, No Hero seems to be making a comment on today's voyeuristic, reality tv-oriented society and how it affects the way we view justice, whereas Wanted's narrative thrust is aimed at getting people to take a look at the things in their lives that hold them back.  Wesley, the lead in Wanted, is a weak nine-to-fiver who draws the attention of a secretive superhuman organization due to his lineage, whereas Joshua Carver, No Hero's star, commands their interest because it is what he desires.  In this world that Ellis has created, justice is meted out by supercelebutantes, and Joshua Carver wants to be the next big star.

Another difference--and this is very important from a reader enjoyment standpoint--is that Joshua is someone you can root for.  Yes, he kills a mugger, but he gains no enjoyment from it.  He sees the act as a means to an end.  No enjoyment, but no remorse as well.  It's simply something that has to be done.  He wants the superheroes to notice him;  he wants to join them so he can have the power to complete his mission.  Carrick Masterson, the leader of the superhuman group "The Front Line", recognizes that Joshua will do anything for this power, and uses it to his advantage.

Ellis is always good, but often his heavy cynicism and his choice to make his lead characters such utter assholes works against him, especially lately.  By contrast, No Hero is almost hopeful.  Joshua Carver seeks empowerment so that he can better the world.  That's about as sunny as you're going to get in an Ellis book.

Juan Jose Ryp's artwork is certainly an acquired taste.  Everything is so dirty and ugly-looking that it may turn some people off.  The linework is heavy, but this doesn't detract from the storytelling.  Ryp's trademark gore is there, but those who have seen some of his other work might say that he's showing restraint here. 

If you are a reader who wants to read a Warren Ellis comic that doesn't seem to loathe it's own characters, then give this a try.  You may not love it, but you might be surprised by how little you hate it.  That may sound like a backhanded compliment, but when you're dealing with a writer who's work is usually bathing in cynicism, that's saying something.