[Comic Execution] 7/25 – TREES, FLINCH, ABCS OF THE DEAD

So where have I been for nearly a month?

I was in Boulder, Colorado, USA. And before you make the inevitable joke, NO. I was there for a wedding. And every moment NOT dedicated to that wedding was spent either hiking in the mountains or drinking at a brewery. It was glorious.

Boulder, though, is not my town. That place, frankly, can’t handle me. A relative and I were strolling down Boulder’s “Main Street,” when I casually dropped the F-bomb. Admittedly, I didn’t pull my punch and I’m fully aware of how my voice broadcasts, often unintentionally. But the simultaneous attention of no less than 4 individuals who all seemed at least startled by my expletive definitely did not justify the rather mild delivery of said swear word. I double-checked; there were no children nearby upon whose behalf these people could be appalled for by my obscenity. Then, I realized; they just weren’t used to the combination of someone saying “fuck” at a volume that would give them the opportunity to perceive the word.

They had become accustomed to that most depraved of civilized enslavements: common courtesy.

Also, at one point I accidentally walked into a Patagonia shop. In the two minutes it took for me to realize my grave mistake and exit, I was left a pale and shaken wretch begging for death. Needless to say, Boulder and I are incompatible.

Never have I felt more alive than the day I returned to Saint Louis, trading mountains for rivers, beer for beer, and white people for diversity (kind of). I’m glad to be home.

---

TREES #3

Writer: Warren Ellis
Artist: Jason Howard

Publisher: Image Comics
Price: $3 (Digital)

Still really kind of bummed out that this series hasn’t been getting the kind of traction it deserves. If I had to speculate, I’d say that it has a lot to do with Warren Ellis. In particular, his reluctance to engage the comic book world at large is part of the problem because TREES is creator owned title and an Image one at that. Ellis is used to publishers that did his PR work for him, essentially. Heck, that’s pretty much how comics used to be. Things have changed, though, and the Internet is a much bigger influence on the industry than it ever was. Comics don’t necessarily live and die by the whims of the Internet but it’s not long before that will be the case and Image Comics is already looking ahead to that time. Ellis is not. I’d say that maybe his pairing with the affable and accessible Jason Howard isn’t coincidence, but they worked together previously on SCATTERLANDS, which he also barely talked about outside his private feeds, so I’m banking it was an arrangement of convenience. And I’m certainly not accusing Ellis of being taciturn, but I do think that he’s more interested in doing things than talking about them, which I sympathize with. But, again, things are changing, for better or worse, and relying on your name to draw an audience will only go so far.

Warren Ellis’ name definitely deserves a good half of the acclaim it brings and his writing in TREES is a reminder of why. In the first issue of TREES, we were introduced to a young artist in China investigating one of the singular Tree-cities, zones of unusual urban life formed at the base of the titular alien structures. The second issue appeared to forsake this character, but thankfully, we return to his story in the third issue, as well as revisiting the mysterious old man from issue two. Ellis’ focus in this issue is really giving both these narratives more complexity and color, expanding the character development to encompass the Mafia-affiliated woman who pursues the old man as well as the transgendered co-resident of the building the artist resides in. By letting these previously undeveloped characters breath, Ellis drives home the thrilling conceit that TREES is about people, and by extension, how the Trees impact them, rather than the somewhat overdone sci-fi angle that issue #2 engaged with. The tale of Zhen and the artist Chenglei is particularly interesting, in that Zhen’s insistence that Chenglei see this brave new world from close up is an incisive allegory about the all-too-common mindset that privileged observers take when trying to understand new cultures.

And the nuanced portrayal of the Mafia woman organically evolves as a result of her conflict with the old man, proving her to be not just defiantly self-determined but pragmatic as well, if a bit headstrong. I’m definitely intrigued by the old man’s “you are not remotely my type” statement, which I’m probably reading too much into but given that Ellis has introduced us to a transgendered individual, I’d not be surprised if there’s a gay man here as well. His remarks about the motivations of older men regarding younger women are revealing, exposing the philosophical attitude of someone who might be just a bit egotistical. Their conversation has, lingering at its edges, a foreboding shadow that reminds the reader of the stakes at hand, proving that Ellis is trying to tell a full story and not just pieces of one.

Artist Jason Howard manages to make what could be a fairly uneventual comic into a visual treat by constantly streaming a barrage of dynamic perspectives from panel to panel, as well as energizing each scene change with elaborate establishing shots. His use of silhouettes is masterful, punctuating the pages with atmospheric moments that draw the reader in. One of my favorites is a view from outside Chenglei’s apartment looking in, the two characters drawn as darker shapes in a pinkish room beyond the window, all framed by the wildly colorful yet painfully weathered building exterior. Another visual sees the Mafia woman lurking in a dark room, the light behind her casting her as a dimly colored figure standing on top of a long spray of light emerging from the slatted door behind her. It’s surreal upon analysis but the eyes and mind take it in as a matter of course, transmitting suspense visually. This segues into a conversation that happens in a blue hue, conveying the neutrality of the scene while still never quite letting go of the noirish atmosphere.

TREES is now in the running for best comic of the year, three issues in. Jason Howard is doing some of the best work I’ve ever seen come out of Image and Ellis is delivering an experience I’m hard pressed to find elsewhere. Between this and UNDERTOW, it’s going to be a tough rest of the year for anyone else looking to take the sci-fi comics crown.

---

FLINCH VOL 1

Writer:
Mel Tregonning
James Barclay
Gary Chaloner
Andrew Constant
Terry Dowling

Artist:
Mel Tregonning
Chris Bolton
Tom Bonin
Gary Chaloner
Michael Katchan

Publisher: Gestalt Comics
Price: $5 (Digital)

I’m generally a fan of comic anthologies. I like the idea of getting a lot of stories, often with shared themes, packed into one book, generally at a reasonable price. While there’s definitely a substantial risk involved, as you can end up with a collection of mostly duds, I’ve yet to buy one that burned me. So FLINCH, an Australian anthology from a veteran-yet-obscure publisher loosely associated with the better-known Ben Templesmith (30 DAYS OF NIGHT), caught my eye as I hunted through Comixology’s new releases for something appropriate to review. The blurb for FLINCH reads: “FLINCH is a collection of engaging stories by established and emerging creators, all playing on their interpretation of ‘flinch’.” Needless to say, I was hooked right away, and the eerie yet inviting cover didn’t hurt.

What I found inside was a much broader collection of work than I anticipated. While there doesn’t appear to be an editor credited within the book itself, Comixology lists an editor: Wolfgang Bylsma. There’s also an “adaptation by” credit, going to one Skye Ogden, who doubles as an artist for one of the stories. The book itself refers to both of these personas as “Publishers” and consequently, I’m holding them responsible for FLINCH’s… inconsistencies. By this I mean that it’s hard to see how FLINCH could be anything but a sprawling mess of tonally-dissonant sequentials very loosely stitched together on the basis of their vague “darkness.” Most of them are surprisingly realistic, often focusing on the eerie in the mundane, but some of them are quite fantastic, so much so that it jarringly averts the thematic intent of the anthology. Right about the sixth actual story (crammed between the proper tales are one-page vignettes), things get abruptly wacky, exploding from enjoyably subtle to full-on weird, if inventive.

If this was a consistent thing, it wouldn’t be so conspicuous, but abruptly downshifting back to an utterly mundane biographical piece was disappointing, to say the least. I tried to keep my mind open and simply enjoy the variety of what was on offer but that was quickly derailed by what was CLEARLY a hastily cut excerpt from a graphic novel, irritatingly teasing what was obviously a full-length story. Almost as an apology, the next few chapters were entertainingly traditional horror stories but then the book ended on a sour note with yet another poorly timed autobiographical excerpt, offering me a decent yet insufficient gallery of full-page art to soften the blow.

It’s not that FLINCH doesn’t have several very good reads in it. “Night”, a vividly rendered piece that’s totally silent, is absolutely glorious in its simplistic yet atmospheric dread. “Daemon Street Ghost-Trap,” is also fantastic, slowly luring the reader into an intriguing story about ghosts and how humans have dealt with them throughout the centuries without ever really descending into full-blown horror. Opener “Withheld” shares the hypnotic, dreamlike aesthetic of both of those tales, even if it’s more conventional. Also notable is “Twain,” the high point of FLINCH’s second half, packed with stellar illustrations by Chris Bolton and featuring a tense, well-wrought tale by James Barclay that’s unfairly truncated. The rest are mediocre affairs, and a couple are blatantly unfinished.

I would’ve been satisfied with FLINCH if I’d paid $3 for it, but at $5, too much of its contents are ripped from pre-existing graphic novels or comics and consequently, it seems like more of a taster for publisher Gestalt Comics than an actual anthology. If the publisher trimmed the fat and lowered the price, I could recommend this. Supposedly, this is Volume One but, frankly, I feel like a second volume would be a waste of my time and money.

---

VISCERAL SLICE PRESENTS #1: ABCS OF THE DEAD

Writer: Ant Wright
Artist: Ant Wright

Publisher: Visceral Slice
Price: $3 (Digital)

I don’t even know what to say about that title. I mean, I feel like it’s a bit silly, isn’t it? Like creator Ant Wright saw ABCS OF DEATH and decided the title could use a bit more wackiness. What to expect from a comic with that title…

ABCS OF THE DEAD is surprisingly interesting. It’s not at all what it seems. Rather than being a bunch of stories about the different manners of death, it’s actually the heart-warming tale of nameless soul trapped in hell and forced to manufacture an encyclopedia of death out of the endless stream of flesh fed into his prison cell endlessly. A pretty intense premise that mostly serves to allow Ant Wright a playground of gross-out, transgressive illustrations of just about every kind of fatality you can imagine, though not depicted as they happen but rather simply the anatomical results of these things. But as the lifeless protagonist tediously assembles his grisly tomes, the plot actually comes to life. It would actually be too much to elaborate on just how the arduous struggle reaches a denouement of sorts but rest assured, there’s a nice balance between the main character’s story and the anatomical abominations he shows us. The ending is a serious gut punch and I was thrilled by how viciously it addressed the divine and infernal theme of the narrative.

Ant Wright’s art is not quite up to the task of ABCS OF THE DEAD, but he valiantly pitches himself into the fray and what he comes up with is worth exploring anyway. His lines are sloppy at best, a sense of depth barely exists and the sparseness of his panels feels too much like padding at times. What he does present is textured and colored as viscerally as possible, somewhat making up for the deficiencies.

ABCS OF THE DEAD is just barely worth the $3 asking price, mainly for two reasons: one is a clever story that might not necessarily surprise but will certainly leave you either impressed or shocked (or maybe both) and the increasingly challenging proposition of witnessing the atrocious assemblage of transgressive mortalities that are the ABCS OF THE DEAD. Horror fans, particularly those who like Clive Barker, should definitely check this out. Whether the next issue of VISCERAL SLICE PRESENTS will be worth buying… everyone gets a second chance.