Precious Metal #3 review

Precious Metal has me thinking a lot about the hero’s journey. (Truth be told, it’s something I think a lot about anyways.) Because that’s what Max Weaver is — a dang mythological hero adorned in sci-fi weirdness and psychedelic madness. But Max is very much not Gilgamesh or Odysseus — he’s on his own journey to discover his lost life and try and save the “angel boy.”

Still, as we enter into Precious Metal #3, there’s at least one part of the hero’s journey that seems to really fit Max’s predicament: “the abyss.” It’s sort of the midway point (fitting that we’re at issue #3 of six) where the character experiences “death and rebirth” before continuing on their journey newly-revitalized and re-focused. But Precious Metal approaches this sturdy framework with creativity and passion, adding a new standard to the stories we tell of our bravest (and sometimes most foolish) heroes.

I guess I’d be spoiling it if I said Max actually died or not — maybe you should be prepared either way. But what he does go through is very much still a death — of his former life and into a new world via some keen realizations and a general “coming to god” moment. It’s grappling with the death of Naomi (from issue #2); a certain betrayal with his “friend” Jelly; his continually evolving relationship with Selina; his continually lackluster parenting of Alina; and even his ongoing mission to rescue the boy (whom we learn of his true power and larger role with The Twelve). Max is laid bare for the first time in a truly compelling manner — this feels like a pivotal moment in our understanding of him not only in this book but who he’ll become by the time of Little Bird.

It’s a moment where we see some walls crumble (and maybe even a few come up) to create this more robust portrait of a man. One who yearns for simple truths and the decency to live his life fully aware of the arc of it all. And through that “accomplishment,” perhaps, he might be able to do a little better, or at least understand the path that he’s on and what it all means. Max seems like a man who has struggled with context and comprehension (often outside of his control), and issue #3 is a chance for all of that perspective to come crashing down in glorious fashion. It is the death of who he was and the rebirth of a man with the understanding to move through the world more deliberately and intently.

His presence in this issue is so rich and stark that it almost steals all of the light, and we reconcile with the true face of the world right alongside Max. It’s a dirty but glorious prospect, and our connection and understanding with him now is more layered and satisfying than ever before. Through that, other things have also become more clear, including Selina’s true role. (Even as she remains something of a compelling enigma.) But this is really about Max, and how he’s crossed another kind of threshold on this hero’s journey, with half of his life divided by the edge of a sword (metaphorical or literal?!) The Precious Metal world is anything but cliche or familiar, but having this mega moment of clarity is huge, and it feels like the book has clicked to another level as Max’s journey truly cements into this grand and majestic thing.

Still, don’t get too caught up in the sheer storytelling wonder across this issue (thanks to yet another stellar performance from writer Darcy Van Poelgeest). Because artist Ian Bertram and colorist Matt Hollingsworth still deliver the deluge of visual wonders. In fact, in my review of Precious Metal #2, I mentioned how much of that issue really was the “Bertram-Hollingsworth Show” — there was just so much size and scale that you couldn’t help but get caught up in the physical world with all its romance and violence. And that’s very much true in Precious Metal #3.

There’s several scenes — a demonstration of the boy’s abilities as well as some great bits with the exterior world of the city — that will once again have your jaw slamming squarely into the floor at 45 mph. But even in those grandiose moments, where the art team’s prowess leaps off the page to delightfully poison your brainpan, I got caught up with the smaller, more intimate bits. Selina and Max staring at some grand techno-organic machine; the sense of claustrophobia as Max encounters some other massive entity while seeking out the boy; and even the quiet majesty of Alina tucked between otherwise giant, extra dire moments. All of this quiet energy trying to exist amid these oversized artistic creations that could normally consume your entire attention span.

As much as I absolutely love seeing the art team absolutely reinventing the confines of bio-cyberpunk with every new panel, not nearly enough credit is given to these quiet, more intimate moments. And there’s even more still: the balance of whimsy and grittiness when Max screams and beats someone with a pole. Or the way some tiny look can further the Selina-Max relationship with endless texture. Even the way eyes are continually depicted here. Proper moments to set the reader ablaze.

These “gentle” instances just hummed a little louder, and they hooked me in and brought everything to a crawl with their subtle grace and stoic tendencies. And that dynamic, then, only showed me that Precious Metal was trying to give space to something more familiar amid the grandiosity of its designs. To show its storytelling bones in such a way that the world felt grounded and within our grasp just enough that we could move through the noise to the true end goal. It was a level of humanity and personality to bypass the sheer volume of this story and connect with these characters in a time when things were quickly coalescing in real time. We got the chance to be dumbfounded by the inventiveness of these creators, but it was always in service of a smaller, more subtle scale surrounding the new shape of this world.

If Precious Metal #3 was all about the emotions and pulling us into understand the white-hot stakes, the art further reminded us there’s so much more to this book than its size and inventiveness. That it can gut you in one panel where it takes some books three to four, and it does so with this unwavering commitment to letting us see these people in vivid detail. So much of this issue felt like a quiet conversation amid a crowded street, and I couldn’t help but cling to every word no matter how tall the building or wide the canal.

If we’re to believe the next “step” in the archetypal hero’s journey, than Precious Metal #4 should see Max experience something akin to a “transformation.” And, at this point, almost anything is possible. But I also readily accept that my application of an imperfect storytelling “device” is just my way to control this living beast. That Precious Metal is so lithe and unpredictable in its efforts that it’s not always easy to keep one’s wits about.

But in the case of Precious Metal #3, it felt like a chance to bring things down before this book explodes onward across its craggily terrain. And I welcomed the opportunity with open arms — it was a way to catch our breath, engage in some much-needed bloodletting, and prepare for this story to extend even further beyond our wits and imagination. But with a hero this big and complex, I’m more than willing to be dragged along across this epic adventure.