Written by: Deniz Camp
Art by: Javier Rodriguez
Colors by: Javier Rodriguez
Letters by: Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou
Cover art by: Javier Rodriguez
Cover price: $4.99
Release date: December 24, 2025
First Impressions
The opening pages hit with a jolt of confusion that never settles into clarity. John Jones is jolted awake at a cheap motel, caught between a memory or delusion of being home with his family and the harsh reality of his isolation. The art makes it genuinely difficult to parse what is happening in these critical opening moments; the panel layouts feel scattered and the color choices muddy rather than enhance the emotional weight of a broken man standing at a crossroads. What should feel like a gripping return to form becomes an obstacle course of visual ambiguity.
Recap
In Absolute Martian Manhunter #6, John Jones was mentally attacked by an anti-life force while his wife Bridget and son Tyler were confronted at their home by a shadowy entity claiming to be connected to the "White Martian." After Bridget shot the intruder, the White Martian simply replaced his head from a white sphere and continued its assault on the family. John arrived and called for backup, triggering a citywide invasion of White Martian infected citizens. The issue ended in philosophical chaos, with the Green Martian using abstract metaphors to supposedly defeat the White Martian, but the mechanics remained mystifying. The issue concluded with hints that Tyler would become central to future conflict.
Plot Analysis
John Jones wakes at the Starlight Motel, a ramshackle in-between place for broken people. He is caught between a false memory of being home with Bridget and Tyler and the cold reality that he is alone, damaged, and unable to maintain even basic stability. His internal dialogue describes his state of mind while a Green Martian version of himself keeps offering cryptic warnings about trauma and self-destruction. He passes his family's house without stopping, tormented by the distance between them.
John returns to FBI headquarters after a three-month leave of absence and is immediately cleared of charges related to the deaths at his house, which are dismissed as self-defense. A supervisor tells him he will be confined to desk duty as punishment and hands him a massive stack of paperwork. After ten hours of meaningless labor with no visible progress, John leaves and is confronted by his supervisor Newell, who suspects something is wrong with Jones and vows to investigate him. John acknowledges that his presence at the FBI office is unsettling because people sense something is different about him.
John observes how Middleton City has changed in the months since the previous issue. The streets are empty and people avoid eye contact. He realizes that the euphoria from Martian vision has faded, replaced by shame and fear, which the White Martian now weaponizes. John then attempts to engage with an abstract dialogue about what the White Martian is; the "Green Martian" explains that Martians do not have a death concept and the White Martian can only be weakened, not killed. The dialogue becomes incomprehensible fragments of symbols and broken language, leaving the reader unable to understand what John is learning or how it matters.
In a final scene shift to a government facility, alien beings or humans in disguise (revealed to be operating on human orders) are instructed to conduct fake alien abduction reports to distract the media from a stock market crash. John is referenced as being involved, and a commander tells the aliens to leave Middleton within the hour.
Writing
The writing is actively hostile to reader comprehension. The comic starts with promise, establishing John's psychological fractured state through its opening dream-reality interplay. The scenes at the motel and the FBI office show structural competence; they have clear plots, logical progression, and genuine emotional stakes. However, the moment the issue pivots to the White Martian discussion, the writing abandons clarity entirely. Dialogue devolves into sentence fragments, broken syntax, and abstract concepts presented without context. Phrases like "DEATH = PHYSICAL PROCESS" and "MARTIANS DO NOT HAVE DEATH CONCEPT" replace actual conversation. This is not profound philosophical complexity; it is obfuscation masquerading as depth. The pacing then becomes erratic, jumping from John's quiet suffering to a cryptic metaphysical conversation to a completely disconnected scene about fake alien reports, none of which connect to create forward momentum. The comic ends with no resolution and no clear setup for the next issue, leaving the impression that the story is simply stalling, filling pages without direction.
Art
Javier Rodriguez delivers artwork that is technically busy without being visually clear. The opening motel sequence uses color inconsistently; the panel where John wakes shows a pale, sickly palette, but then colors shift without narrative justification, making it unclear what is memory versus present. The composition relies heavily on close-ups and fragmented panel layouts that emphasize confusion over clarity. The FBI office scenes are marginally better, with more structured page layouts and readable environments. However, the critical failure comes in the White Martian discussion pages. The artwork becomes abstract and experimental to the point of illegibility. Panels shift to broken symbols, random letters in multiple languages, and visual noise that is meant to convey otherworldliness but instead conveys a refusal to let the reader understand what is happening. The final scene with the aliens is rendered in such muddy color work and unclear composition that it becomes difficult to understand the spatial relationships between characters or what is actually being shown. Rodriguez's work does not support the narrative; it actively undermines it.
Character Development
John Jones remains the only character with any internal consistency or recognizable motivation. His pain is genuine and grounded, his struggle to exist after trauma feels authentic, and his passive acceptance of institutional punishment because he has nothing else reads as tragically human. However, this is not enough to carry the issue. Bridget and Tyler appear only as memories and distant concerns; they have no agency or complexity, existing only as objects of John's longing. The supervisor Newell is a paper-thin antagonist motivated only by procedural suspicion and personal resentment. The White Martian itself is never developed beyond abstract concepts and cryptic statements. By refusing to explain what it is, what it wants, or how it functions, the comic ensures that readers cannot invest in it as a threat. The aliens in the final scene are functionaries without character or purpose. The issue never develops anyone beyond John, and even he is primarily shown in states of passivity and internal rumination rather than active choice.
Originality and Concept Execution
The core concept of a hero broken by trauma and forced to function within institutions that do not recognize or understand his damage is not original, but it is solid ground for storytelling. The notion that Martian Manhunter's alien nature makes him fundamentally unable to connect with human systems has potential. However, the execution fails entirely. By making the White Martian unknowable and undescribable, the story loses the ability to actually explore its central conflict. What could be a smart deconstruction of the superhero genre becomes a exercise in willful obscurity. The issue also introduces a completely unrelated subplot about fake alien abductions and stock market manipulation that has no thematic connection to anything else in the issue and feels like padding. The comic promises a payoff from the previous issue's climax and delivers only evasion and confusion. This is not ambitious storytelling; it is a refusal to tell a story.
Positives
The opening motel sequence is genuinely strong. The dialogue between John's false memory and his reality feels earned and painful, and for the first few pages, the comic seems like it might deliver actual character work. The scenes at the FBI office also work well, grounding the story in recognizable human institutions and showing how John is now trapped within systems that cannot comprehend what he is. The supervisor's suspicion feels like a genuine threat, and the decision to chain John to a desk is a clever way to render a superhero powerless without needing explicit physical restraint. These moments show that Deniz Camp understands how to write tension and character vulnerability. The art in these early scenes, while inconsistent in color, maintains enough clarity to follow the narrative. There is ambition here, even if it is ultimately squandered.
Negatives
Everything after the FBI office scenes collapses into incoherence. The White Martian discussion is incomprehensible; the abstract dialogue and broken symbols make it impossible for readers to understand what information is being conveyed or why it matters. The narrative provides no explanation for what the White Martian is, what it wants, how John can fight it, or why the reader should care about its continued existence. This is presented as profound but reads as lazy. The final alien abduction subplot appears with no setup, serves no thematic purpose, and feels like filler designed to pad the issue to its required page count.
The art shifts from muddy to outright illegible at critical moments, actively preventing readers from understanding spatial relationships or character positions. The pacing becomes chaotic, jumping between John's isolated suffering, incomprehensible philosophy, city observation, and government conspiracy with no transitions or connective tissue. The issue ends without resolution, climax, or clear direction, leaving readers with no sense of why they have spent time with this story. Most critically, this is a direct follow-up to issue #6, which ended with John supposedly defeating the White Martian, saving his family, and facing new challenges with Tyler. Issue #7 essentially negates that ending by revealing the White Martian is not actually dead and John's victory was meaningless. This is not sophisticated storytelling; this is killing time while refusing to deliver on narrative promises.
About The Reviewer: Gabriel Hernandez is the Publisher & EIC of ComicalOpinions.com, a comics review site dedicated to indie, small, and mid-sized publishers.
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The Scorecard
Writing Quality (Clarity & Pacing): [1/4]
Art Quality (Execution & Synergy): [1/4]
Value (Originality & Entertainment): [0/2]
Final Verdict
Absolute Martian Manhunter #7 is a comic that mistakes obscurity for depth and padding for substance. The issue opens with genuine promise, suggesting a character study of trauma and institutional alienation that could resonate. However, it quickly pivots into abstract dialogue that communicates nothing, murky artwork that obscures rather than illuminates, and a narrative structure that feels designed to confuse rather than engage. For readers picking up this issue expecting narrative progression, character development, or even basic coherence, this comic fails on every level.
2/10
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