The final volume has arrived, just in time for the feature film release date. Isn’t cross-promotion a beautiful thing? As the marketing blitz for the movie intensifies, I can’t help but hear the voice of Jack Donaghy spewing slogans about synergy. It’s interesting to watch the media capture a market segment that prides itself on being (theoretically) immune to mainstream media puppeteers. It’s the kind of irony the indie scene attempts to champion.

The premise, for those of you that have dutifully managed to live lives free of advertising, is one hipster’s boy’s quest to defeat his main squeeze’s seven evil ex-boyfriends. In this volume, it reaches its natural conclusion: a showdown with the final boyfriend, who is of course stronger, faster, and more sharply dressed than those who came before him. Things unfold naturally (a predictability that I found to serve as one of the volume's key flaws).

O’Malley’s art remains much the same. To some of you, that means more simplified, expressive visuals with a smorgasbord of cultural references attached. To others, it means more of a manga-cribbed style for which he couldn’t be bothered to find a colorist. I can’t make the choice for you, since it tends to be a reaction formed instantly upon first impression. So in lieu of an opinion, allow me to lazily provide a sample page.

The writing, however, is another issue. In fact, it has something of a quality tumor. It goes into remission at times, even taking an extended leave for the first two-thirds of the final conflict. You see, the sole anchor of this series has always been a somewhat self-destructive desire to be taken seriously. There’s a pendulum that swings between “quirky melodrama” and the kinetic energy the comic is known for, and the weaker moments have always pointed towards the former. I’m no advocate of shallow plotlines, but Scott Pilgrim’s more maudlin moments always seem to clash painfully with the story of the kung-fu fighting bassist of a band called Sex Bob-omb.

The final volume, unfortunately, swings further towards an 8-bit Dawson’s Creek than the preceding entries. The usual humor is still intertwined with these moments, but there’s a tangible feeling that Bryan Lee O’Malley is reaching for a quasi-insightful message on life and love that has been made a thousand times since the invention of the printing press. Considering the skill that O’Malley demonstrated in Lost at Sea, it’s surprising that the character development and interactions in this volume are so clumsily handled. It’s honestly the only aspect of the comic that I can say lacks imagination.

By the way, if you were hanging on the edge of your seat for the reveal of Gideon Gordon Graves, get ready to ride the express train to Disappointment Junction. Five books of buildup have led to a generic megalomaniac with a loosely-explained attachment to the series’ subspace phlebotinum. The beginning of Gideon’s battle with the title character begins with some of the series’ original energy, but the spark quickly fades as Ramona reenters the scene, and the feeling of a plot on a set of inevitable rails returns.

Finally, the actual point of a review: if it’s worth buying. Volume Six is a satisfying enough conclusion for long time fans (who are legion). But there’s not a great deal of meat for new readers, or even lukewarm followers. It’s a retread of old ground with a few ham-handed comments on growing up and the invincibility of romance thrown in. Purchase it if that sounds like fun to you, but I advise saving your money for a tale whose course doesn’t feel like a foregone conclusion.

7/22/2010
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