Booksology Don’t get me wrong: When Street Sharks hit the comic book ocean this summer, your boy was elated. I’d collected all the toys and seen every episode, and thus I was jazzed that the creative team (writer Stephanie Williams, artist Ariel Medel, colorist Valentina Pinto, and letterer Jeff Eckleberry) were willing to dive in with ample passion and gusto.
Sure, I did find the debut a little “basic” in its approach — it felt like the cartoon itself with maybe a little extra texture and flair — but it was ultimately what you’d want and/or expect (about four genetically modified shark brothers playing superheroes). Really, basic isn’t necessarily bad — it just means that you should’ve come in with certain expectations attuned to a certain degree/wavelength.
And the second issue doubles down on that — yet again for better and worse.
This time around, the Street Sharks have to deal with another of Dr. Paradigm’s harebrained schemes — this one involving the circus. The setting alone is pretty darn wonderful, as the art team gets to mutate acrobats into an angelfish and eels, and that alone should more than meet your quota for ‘90s extremeness and absurdity. (Having muscular eel-men shoot electric beams at a roller-blading shark-dude is a mental sugar snack I’ll savor forever.)
But mostly I like the idea of doing more one-and-done issues; it feels like it honors the spirit and intent of the cartoon and gives people a chance to come and go without missing all that much. Even as someone who had several actual months between issues, my immersion back into this book was instantaneous. Not that you could ever get all that lost with a Street Sharks series, but it’s nice that the show and cartoon share a level of immersion as we consider what that means for our ongoing nostalgia and the role and value of these adaptations.
Still, there’s not exactly a massive through-line connecting these issues — aside from the Bolton boys’ having beef with the bad, bad doctor. And, sure, I get it: The nature of these one-shot-y adventures means that we can’t get too in-depth with the overarching storyline, and that being a proper adaptation also means remaining close to the series not only aesthetically but in terms of general story limits/potential.
Only the counter to that argument is Biker Mice from Mars. Technically, you could treat each issue as being standalone (at least in the sense that you can consume each without too much trouble), but the overarching storyline was still interesting. Not only that, but that book’s tried to make the Mice seem more serious while also lending some heft and emotionality to their universe (without taking away from the core concept of space rodents riding dope motorbikes).
Still, I can at least earnestly applaud Street Sharks for going its own way and not tiptoeing into the realm of “gritty reboot.” The creators either knew what this project was all about (and/or had some constraints from Mattel), and they gave the people what they wanted all along. But I’d be remiss to say that, at least to some extent, that does mitigate some of the long-term potential of Street Sharks. If it’s all just a “modified cartoon episode,” with a flimsy narrative structure holding it all together, even this rush of nostalgia might not be enough to keep me past a handful of issues.
At the same time, Biker Mice used its fourth issue to extend into a line-wide story, and that also made me lose interest quickly enough. So I guess that’s all to say that there’s no definitive path forward for these books, and we’re all in the Wild West in terms of this latest surge of licensed titles.
There are, however, at least a few things that Street Sharks does that feel like it’s somewhat trying to push against the cartoon-adjacent confines. For instance, everyone talks in this way that either always rhymes and/or is an ocean-themed pun. I don’t recall the cartoon being as overt or heavy-handed with said device, but I’ve got to say it really works. It’s a way to further lean into the material and the very idea of adaptations — a tongue-in-cheek gesture that can also read with pure sincerity and which feels like just enough self-awareness to make this comic sing.
Similarly, the brothers feel just distinct enough — they’re not exactly at TMNT levels of personality by now, but you can see their roles aligning and coalescing enough that you might pick your fave (and not just if they rollerblade or not). Yet it’s never enough that it would complicate true nature of this story: four brothers dealing with trauma by helping other victims and misfits. Plus, I like the specific emphasis on Bends and Lena Mack in support roles; it’s more people to focus on and perhaps develop connections (even if these characters can feel a little flimsy or a touch cliched.)
So, no, Street Sharks isn’t extra novel or especially robust in its efforts. (Even as, yet again, there’s some texture to make it new enough.) But it doesn’t have to be, and at least for now we can enjoy this title for what it is: A head-spinning rush of nostalgia that maybe wants to collect our monies but at least has the gumption to do it the right way.
If the book ever decides to leave its hunting grounds for more open water, things may not be the same, and that’s an important lesson as we work our way through a world where these licensed books are only ever going to get more prevalent than ever before. At least this one nails what matters, swims from any potential hazards (even if maybe it should risk a little more of its hide), and has the heart and humor to make it all work.
To paraphrase another beloved ocean-goer: Just keep right on swimming, Street Sharks.
