‘Precious Metal’ #6 unveils its true beating heart in glorious fashion

Nailing down the robustness and complexity of Precious Metal is no easy feat. (Heck, I’ve lovingly struggled to do just that this whole time.) But way back when I spoke to writer Darcy Van Poelgeest ahead of June’s issue #1, the concept of memory came up again and again. Not just how these “ideas” power our lives, but how it’s hard to know which ones will slip right by or make a lasting impact. Or, that some memories can be an obstacle with which we have to break through to know ourselves that much better.

And it’s memory that is at the very heart of Precious Metal‘s spellbinding sixth and final issue.

Don’t get me wrong, this is very much still the hero’s journey I’ve been hyping. Because after trying to protect Twelve from the Church, having to leave his daughter behind, and not to mention all the back-and-forth with Selina Chen, Max’s personal arc ends as it should: a triumphant final battle separating the man he was and the man he will become. And that final swing from this hero’s tale is as appropriately epic and exciting, with artist Ian Bertram and colorist Matt Hollingsworth once more delivering with a mighty clash, a little swordplay, some fisticuffs, and generally more visual insanity to inform the reader that if this is the last stand. But more on that S-tier action later.

Because amid all the visual feats and wonders, what stands out is a simple but undeniably essential scene at the issue’s end. Without spoiling too much, Max gets his big moment after years of searching for clues into his past. And through that process, he is able to effectively save the day — so much as you can save the day in this specific story universe. It’s a simple but noble idea: who we are is tied up in memory. It’s the arc of our whole lives, the roadmap to a future, and the nougat that defines us.

For Max, it isn’t just about victory or absolution — it’s about remembering. To know himself doesn’t contain some deep power (even as it really does in this story/instance), but that memory is how we define ourselves in the world and how we keep moving. It’s both a string back to where you began, a reminder of what matters, and a force of gravity if you somehow veer off course. It’s a powerful lesson that Max shares with his daughter, and even if that’s maybe the only thing they get to do “together,” it’s all that matters. It’s him telling her as much as he’s telling himself that, if nothing else matters in life, or if things go too far beyond your reach, you can always find a semblance of home through memory. To know is enough because that’s everything you ever are wrapped up in the nearest of bows.

And as far as an ending goes, especially for this massively complex, multifaceted story, it’s more than enough. It’s a gentle whisper from father to child about navigating the sharp forests of the world, and a way to soothe and comfort without placating. And that’s really what Precious Metal has tried to do across its run: give us something of value even if it meant working for it. In some ways, it’s been a way to align our journeys with Max; we’ve all walked this path just to simply know the truth. Plus, if nothing else, the end of Precious Metal is totally in alignment with the rest of the story. That as much as the conclusion felt shimmery and important, it wasn’t exactly a happy ending. The Max-Selina dynamic remains complicated at best; Max and Alina don’t exactly get their teary reunion (even if what they do have is still emotionally rewarding); and we still have the wondrous “suffering buffet” that is Little Bird on the horizon.

But as far as “unhappy” endings go, Precious Metal had the skill and passion to further poke and prod our sensibilities and perspectives to make it feel like a joyous process anyway. To give us the one part of an ending that fully makes readers happy: the knowledge that our hero has changed, and even if it’s not obvious or always for the better, there’s a joy in that kind of honesty. There’s a power in showing us that change and growth are often ugly and meaningful prospects, and having the chance to experience this in the first place is reason enough to celebrate. In that way, the memory “gimmick” feels all the more important and satisfying because it’s a spot of good that is earned and never overpowers or over-simplifies the bulk of Precious Metal.

Plus, if you don’t like thinking about endings too much, you can always just peep all that amazing art from Bertram and Hollingsworth. Seriously, in what feels like an escalation across every issue of Precious Metal, the two have achieved a brand-new peak with issue #6. Their take on violence is always stark and compelling, and the battles here are just top-notch. Max, especially, takes a proper beating, and they capture him in extra vivid detail. But as with the rest of the issue, it’s not just about blood and gore for the mere sake of it.

Rather, it’s a final encapsulation of the journey Max has been on, and just as it’s reached its apex and finally provided us some release, our hero must suffer like never before. Here we see the cost of it all laid truly bare, and that catharsis is made especially real and vivid through this process. There’s other moments like that across Precious Metal #6, including Alina reuniting with a lost toy — a moment that uses something so obvious and direct as to show us that sweet payoff but never deny the layers of history and emotion that brought us here in the first place.

Variant cover by Ryan Ottley. Courtesy of Image Comics.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg for the art team’s contributions in this issue. They once again play around with scale, showing a massive “monster” in a way that captures its inhuman size and yet never lets us forget the unwavering intimacy of this world. Or, more metaphysical stuff (Max “swimming” up into some undefined space or pocket of time/reality) that’s not always visually appealing in its grace and playfulness but reminds us once more of the sheer size and scope of this world in other ways. But of all the things this issue accomplished (and I’m skipping things so I don’t keep repeating “another issue-defining performance”) its that it kept us moving all along.

In issues past, the art gave us so much to stop and gawk at, and while there’s lots of that here, the mission felt different. It was a certain pacing, or a give and take. Or maybe just letting that narration shine more overtly. Either way, it almost felt like the art stepped aside (without truly minimizing itself) to let this narrative bolt gracefully to the end, making all sorts of twists and turns and leaps forward in time and space to complete its journey. That’s the mark of a truly great art team — to build the world in such a way that you can feel its power but remains capable, often on a dime, of pivoting to change the way the story flows to make something land or offer new room/space. In the case of Precious Metal #6, the art team let the narrative run at a tempo and intensity that allowed its big but simple messages to land with maximum impact.

As hard as this book was to properly digest sometimes, that process was never intimidating or laborious whatsoever. Precious Metal is one of those rare books that challenges you at every level just as much as it entices and excites. It puts its biggest ideas on the highest shelf and shines a light on a kitchen chair to use for climbing up. The journey sometimes felt perilous (as much as it felt complicated, exciting, weird, massively personal, etc.), but the ending assured me that it was all worthwhile.

It’s an ending, I might add, that will stay with me for sometime. Not only as something I mull over (and which necessitates future re-reads), but that has helped enhance my understanding of myself, my relationships, and the world around me. If memory is the building blocks of life, then Precious Metal is dear now and forever.

‘Precious Metal’ #6 unveils its true beating heart in glorious fashion

Precious Metal #6

The finale cuts through a lot of the complexity and robustness for a powerful message about memory and hope.

The art from Ian Bertram and Matt Hollingsworth shines big even as they let the narrative move around more.

The issue’s emotional emphasis feels more direct and comforting than ever (even as it’s still on brand for this book).

‘Precious Metal’ nails a finale the gives us something definitive while still letting this story breath and grow.

The messaging in this finale may not ring as true and vibrant for every reader.