The Witching Hour (Comics) | Review

Imagine meeting a stranger on a Manhattan street who hands you a blank white business card and offers to change your life forever in ways you can't imagine. The catch? Your choice reveals who you really are deep down inside, exposing your true nature without any mercy.

Writer Jeph Loeb (Daredevil: Yellow, Hulk: Gray) and artist Chris Bachalo (Avengers: Fear Itself, X-Men: Supernovas) created this atmospheric Vertigo mini-series back in 1999, presenting interconnected tales about Amanda Collins, a mysterious figure moving through Manhattan's shadows offering life-changing opportunities.

This isn't your typical superhero fare or horror anthology at all. It's something stranger, more philosophical, dwelling in that uncomfortable space where free will meets consequence and people are forced to face the brutal truth about themselves and their choices.

The story centers on Amanda Collins, also known as Ms. White, who carries little more than blank business cards and an otherworldly presence. She appears in the lives of ordinary Manhattan residents at critical moments, offering them opportunities to fundamentally alter their paths but these aren't fairy godmother gifts.

The narrative structure deliberately fragments across multiple storylines. We follow Dex, a desperate man making dangerous decisions. Amy navigates a relationship crisis. Charity faces temptation that could destroy everything. Each story operates independently at first.

Amanda works with a colorful group of associates known by colors: Gray, Black, Blue, and Red. Gray serves as narrator, a six-hundred-year-old cynic who's witnessed humanity's patterns repeat endlessly throughout ages. Black is a child prodigy who only speaks in Victorian literary quotes. Blue never talks but loves card games.

Gray made a promise to Amanda's mother centuries ago to watch over her daughter Forever and a Day. This back-story unfolds through flashbacks to seventeenth-century Ireland, where Amanda's origins as the daughter of a Wiccan witch and pastor come into focus.

The mini-series plays with Wiccan philosophy and morality tales reminiscent of classic EC Comics horror from the past. People who embrace darkness, chase wicked desires, or succumb to their worst impulses face dire consequences that feel both supernatural and inevitable through their own foolish choices made freely.

Loeb structures the three forty-eight-page issues non-linearly, jumping between timelines and characters. The fragmentation serves a purpose beyond stylistic choice. As stories converge, patterns emerge. The blank card becomes a recurring motif representing potential and choice.

The philosophical bent runs deep throughout the narrative. Characters deliver monologues about fate, choice, redemption, and the nature of evil itself. Gray's narration provides cynical commentary on human nature while maintaining enough warmth to avoid complete nihilism about people's own capacity for genuine change.

The ending ties everything together in ways that re-contextualize earlier events. Amanda's true nature and the extent of her powers become clearer. The historical flashbacks connect directly to present-day consequences. Each character's story reaches resolution, though not expected.

Loeb employs obvious symbolism at times, like an elevator scene where a character chooses between white and black floor buttons representing different life paths ahead. The heavy-handedness occasionally undercuts subtler moments, but the overall thematic exploration of choice and consequence lands effectively in the end.

This is a standalone Vertigo story with no connections to DC continuity. It shares thematic territory with mature-readers titles from that era exploring moral ambiguity and supernatural consequences through unconventional narratives. The title references DC's classic anthology.

Loeb's writing shows both strengths and weaknesses here. The dialogue gives each character distinct voices. The humor works surprisingly well, particularly in scenes where the witches meet in absurd locations. However, some clever wordplay falls flat, and philosophical monologues occasionally tip way into pretension.

Chris Bachalo's artwork defines this series more than Loeb's writing. His manga-influenced style creates moody, shadowy visuals perfectly suited to the material. The character designs show his signature aesthetic with women featuring shadows under their eyes and angular faces.

Bachalo's depictions of seventeenth-century Ireland and colonial America feel like fairy tales given visual form through his art. His rendering of contemporary Manhattan captures the city's nocturnal atmosphere perfectly, that strange feeling of walking empty streets late at night when everything feels slightly unreal and haunting.

Art Thibert's inking complements Bachalo's pencils, adding depth without overwhelming the linework. Grant Goleash's coloring uses monochrome panels effectively to establish mood. The production design feels cohesive and intentional, creating a distinct visual identity.

The main weakness lies in character differentiation. Amanda, Red, and Charity sometimes look identical except for hair color. In monochrome panels, that distinction disappears, creating occasional confusion about who's speaking or acting. Bachalo's style prioritizes mood over clarity, which works but sacrifices plot coherence.

The Witching Hour stands as an ambitious if flawed experiment from Vertigo's late nineties catalog. It tackles philosophical questions about choice and redemption while maintaining enough plot momentum to justify its existence as more than a mere thinkpiece.

Bachalo's artwork elevates material that might feel overly literary in less capable hands. His visual interpretation creates atmosphere that writing alone couldn't achieve. The historical sequences particularly showcase his ability to render fantastical settings with emotional weight. This might be his best work outside collaborations.

For Jeph Loeb fans, this represents a departure from his superhero work with Tim Sale. It's more experimental, more willing to alienate readers through structure and pacing choices. The ambition deserves respect even when execution falters throughout the narrative.

The series works best for readers interested in morality plays with supernatural elements throughout. If you enjoyed Vertigo's willingness to explore adult themes through genre fiction, The Witching Hour delivers that specific brand of thoughtful storytelling worth exploring.

You can read The Witching Hour in its original five-issue run or in the collected trade paperback from Vertigo. First published as a book in 2000, physical copies are available through major online retailers, while the full mini-series is also available digitally on Amazon Kindle, ComiXology and platforms carrying Vertigo's backlist.