Comic Review: Dollface: Tales of the Ball-Jointed Witch Hunter #3


There’s so much to say about Dollface, but I’m not even sure where to start.

The main character is a 3d-printed sex doll with pink hair and DSL, brought to life by a magic tome, and inhabited with the spirit of a witch-killer’s daughter from the days of yore that was sucked through time moments before a clan of witches could sacrifice her, body and soul, to a demon known as the horned prince.

It’s a premise that could go all dark and satanic pretty quick, focusing on goat heads and pentagrams, but instead goes in a very different direction.

See, in the present, the ancient coven of witches is still alive, and they’re all super hot, ridiculously proportioned, almost-naked vixens that spend their time seducing men and cussing like sailors.

But ya know what…it works.

Here in issue #3, we see the origin story conclude, as told through a series of flashbacks to an undead, rotting witch (though still impossibly sexy) that the heroes have struck a very strained truce with.  We see the first witch kill (which was hinted at in the first issue), we see how the ghost sidekick came to be, and we see our heroine get so pissed that she literally blasts the clothes off her opponent.  Which would be enough to have you coming back for seconds, except that it also features a crazy twist at the end which may spell certain doom for Dollface before her adventures really get off the ground.

As I read the first issue, it was a bit off-putting, because I was still learning the rules of this new world.  I tend to have a problem with fiction tackling ancient personalities, like 200-year-old vampires that want nothing more than to date high school students (I’m looking at you, Twilight) — as if they’re on the same emotional maturity level, somehow.  But this book doesn’t care about things like that.  It understands that it has a ridiculous premise, and rather than try to explain it in any way that makes rational sense, they exploit the camp and fun of it all and just go tits-out to have a good time.

Perhaps my hang-ups on entering this book were borne of the fact that I was a child when I began reading comics, and this book is certainly not for kids.  It’s for the kids that read comics, grew up, and still enjoy comics (and possibly getting super high).  It’s a comic for the Game of Thrones and True Blood generation, folks that like their action bloody, their nudity gratuitous, and their plot laced with magic and supernatural improbabilities.

I wasn’t sure where the book would go after the double-sized first issue, and now that we’re three issues in, I can’t wait to see where it’s headed.

You may have thought I was wrapping up, and I am, but I need to mention the artwork first.  I’m a visual person, and I have a hard time reading a comic that has terrible art (even if its a series I’m invested in and they have a sub artist for one issue). Thankfully, Dan Mendoza delivers in a big way.  Not only is his artwork top-notch, giving us a down and dirty cartoon that doesn’t shy away from being either explicit or pretty, but it single-handedly sells the book.  Words on paper are one thing, but a movie script can fall flat in the hands of the wrong actor, and the wrong comedic timing can kill a joke.  The wrong artwork here would kill this book.  All the adult content in the world, combined with the black magic of it all, wouldn’t gel so appealingly if not for Mendoza’s colorful, cartoony world that he’s built.


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