Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on April 19, 2013

Welcome back to Reading With The Lights Out! For this week’s column, we’re going to veer off in a potentially unexpected direction. Rather than look at our traditional ghost and ghoul stories, I want to talk about how horror elements creep into non-genre works, because fear and terror isn’t reserved for just the monsters and zombies! With that being said, let me introduce our first specimen for this experiment: Batman!

Batman’s very costume design manifests the idea of terror, which plays on the fear of the unknown. Terror  is about the anticipation, a psychological response to the knowledge that something could be out and it could very well be dangerous and wanting to rip your face off. This is what Batman is supposed to signify to the criminals he’s facing off against: an overwhelming scary presence from within the shadows. In this case, it’s a situation of using fear and horror to mete out justice and to keep Gotham safe. It works because primal terror of monsters and creatures that we cannot immediately rationalize paralyze us temporarily, throwing our mental balance off and leaving us open and vulnerable.

But that’s not to say Batman himself is the only horrific element of his titular run.  Batman has a (mostly) terrifying cast of villains that Roger Corman or Vincent Price would be happy to base a grainy, campy film around. Take Scarecrow, whose salient advantage and attack is to instill an all-consuming fear in people, to which he can then manipulate or dispose of as he sees fit. Let’s not forget that scarecrows themselves are already a B-side monster staple. (Any one remember Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark? Remember this?) Joker is also an easy example here also, because coulrophobia (a phobia of clowns) is one of the top ten most common specific phobias (and it’s supposedly the third most common fear in Britain).  And I mean, while The Calculator may not be the most bone-chilling foe you’ve ever encountered, but neither were sheep until Black Sheep (2006) came along, and introduced this hilariously unsettling abomination.

Let’s look at a specific arc to see how this works out narratively. Court of Owls is the best recent example because it has two integral conflicts: an external monstrous villain and an internal psychological fear that eats away at you from the inside out. The Court and Talons themselves are right in line with Batman’s already frightening roaster of villains. Greg Capullo’s art is the perfect mixture of realistic and stylized, lending the court a slightly exaggerated look that makes them uncanny, both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It’s this effect that establishes the court as something to be afraid of: we do not know what they’re capable of, let alone if they’re even human.

Apologies in advance, but for this next part I need to jump into slight spoiler-territory. While all these elements are present through most Batman arcs, the labyrinth scene in Court of Owls creates a deeper dynamic that extends beyond just the fear for survival. Batman being trapped in the court’s labyrinth elevates this arc to utter horror in the way it epitomizes Batman’s own internal conflict and psychological despair. It’s not just about him facing off against monstrous villains (because he’s Batman and we all know even Superman isn’t a match for him. Joking! Got ya!) While he’s stuck in the maze, the terror becomes about whether or not Batman will overcome his own fear, his own struggle, or if he will succumb and be lost to an overwhelming insanity forever.

These pages, with their glaring blood red and intentionally disorientating layouts, felt like an homage to Dario Argento’s 1977 bloody horror film Suspiria. Aside from the fact that both works, Suspiria and Court of Owls, use a stunning and arresting red,  it’s not just a superficial similarity between the two. They both use the insanely intense red colour to evoke the same paranoid, nervous, terrified feelings, and deep psychological undoing. And it works, and it is incredible. It evokes a losing of self, a complete unraveling of psyche and strength, and becoming lost within the unshackled remnants of your mind. It’s this, Bruce’s own self-conscious paranoia and fears, that makes Batman stories so terrifying. Good horror hinges on a distrust of self and one’s own perceptions, knowledge, memories, and motives.

This is also why in Grant Morrison’s Arkham Asylum it is Dr. Arkham himself and his seriously damaged psyche that is the real terror. Arkham Asylum as a setting represents the fear of the loss of ourselves that is so prevalent in horror stories: we’re afraid that what we are confronted with is not real, and a lot of the times, our own personal fears are what scares us the most. It’s the fear of complete insanity. It’s why the use of Two-Face in the story is so poignant: he represents the oscillation between normal and insane, our controlled self and our potential for unfathomable darkness. But what’s truly terrifying is that we contain these facets within ourselves, but that they can manipulated, the way Two-Face has been reduced in Arkham Asylum. If what we know to be true isn’t and if we are not in control of ourselves, then anything is possible. And that “anything” usually turns out to be on par with Lovecraftian evils.

While I could list off your typical tropes (monsters/serial killer, haunted house — Arkham Asylum, anyone? –, unlikely hero etc), these aren’t just what makes a great horror story. What makes horror engaging is taking these elements and transforming them into a story that creeps into your brain, crawls under your skin, and makes you run to flick on the light in the middle of the night. They unsettle you, even just for a moment, and make you doubt everything you know about the way the world works and your own sanity. This is what Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale’s Batman arcs accomplish so effortlessly. The Long Halloween is terrifying because while the killer is following a predictable pattern, the motives are unknown and therefore makes protection and defense near impossible. Court of Owls shares the same paranoia and teetering on the edge of insanity that Haunted Knight does, as well.

The horror isn’t always born from the external tropes (although they help and they’re tropes for a reason), but from the internal struggle at trying to rationalize these tropes and our (in)ability to defend against them. It’s when we’re not sure that we can defend ourselves that the real terror settles in and grips you. It’s the details, folks. Good horror is always in the details. You can have a ludicrous villain or monster, as long as the psychological backbone is working to completely undermine your hold on reality. Once that’s lost, all that’s left is to scream and hope that black shape really is just a shadow in the corner of your room.

Categories: Comics
Tags: Arkham Asylum, Batman, Black Sheep 2006, coulrophobia, Court of Owls, Dario Argento, gotham, Grant Morrison, Greg Capullo, Haunted Knight, Jeph Loeb, Joker, Long Halloween, Reading With The Lights Out, Roger Corman, Scarecrow, Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark, Scott Snyder, Suspiria, Talon, The Calculator, Time Sale, Two-Face, Vincent Price

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on April 9, 2013

The Future Prophecy is a dystopian graphic novel, set in a savage wasteland where gangs fight for control of what little resources and manpower remains. Sounds familiar, right? As a medium, graphic novels and comic books are no strangers to the apocalyptic genre, with works like The Walking Dead, Crossed and Y: The Last Man taking center stage. Where The Future Prophecy differs, though, is in it’s choice of hero and villain: rather than a rag-tag group of unlikely survivors banding together to fight off unspeakable evil, The Future Prophecy features Sara Simms, a heroic DJ called forth to defend and save herself and her allies from other corrupt DJs and musical monopolies. Part concept album part epic narrative, The Future Prophecy begins with Volume One: Arcanum and sets the scene for these musical showdowns that are all about life and death. Check out the trailer for a glimpse of the dazzling and yet gritty world of The Future Prophecy.

I was fortunate enough to run into the lovely and talented creators of The Future Prophecy on a very exhausted Sunday morning of Toronto ComiCon, as we were all setting up exhibits for the second day of the con. I was underslept and under-caffennaited and saw Sara Simms’ incredible cosplay, which was sparkling and shimering enough to act like a shot of espresso. She immediately reminded me of Marvel’s Dazzler, a superheroine made for the spotlight, and I walked away from the con with a business card and immediately downloaded the first volume of The Future Prophecy: Volume One Arcanum.

KT: The Future Prophecy is a fairly fun concept, an unique mash-up of a dystopian apocalyptic setting, with the world of DJs and music production. What was the main source of inspiration for this story?

Melle:  Growing up with my sister in Toronto was probably the main source of inspiration for this story.  We totally ran amok and were constantly embarking on adventures that took us to all corners of the city.  We were always exploring nightclubs, back alleys, record stores, rooftops, sewers…I think when you are young your imagination is open to creating a very exciting existence for yourself and you really soak in the details.  I try to think back on those evenings we spent roaming around and pull from those memories of the city to inspire the setting for The Future Prophecy.  It was a very magical time where it seemed like anything was possible, and a lot of the things I learned, saw and experienced seemed almost supernatural.

My sister has been DJing since she was 17 and has always loved the EDM scene, so I was always tagging along to raves, clubs and events with her. If you’ve ever been to a rave in an abandoned warehouse or old factory, it’s not so hard to imagine that the world has ended and you are surrounded by displaced citizens who are fighting for survival.  The DJ up in the booth overlooking the crowd has always reminded me a bit of a mad scientist: turning knobs and pressing buttons and controlling the crowd.  A crowded dancefloor always has an aura of comradarie; music really has the power to unite people, and that is what our story is all about.  I’m a very visual person with a healthy imagination and I always sort of felt that all of the electronic equipment behind the DJ booth had a mind of it’s own…like an army of  intelligent robots.  Even now when I’m in Sara’s studio I feel like at any moment her synth could light up and start beeping at me like R2D2. 

KT: Absolutely — there’s a sense of everyone’s being in on it together and everything outside of the scene ceases to exist. On that note, where did Sara Simms originate from as a character and as a concept?

Melle:  Sara Simms in the graphic novel is based off of my sister, Sara Simms, who is a real life DJ and music producer.  The concept of her ‘superpowers’ (controlling musical technologies with her mind) is based off her skills in reality: controlling musical technologies to make and play music.

I think when you are watching any DJ/musician/performer there is a sort of spiritual element to experiencing someone who is really dedicated to their craft.  It’s easy to sort of view that as an extension of the person, like they were born with something special that allowed them to master that skill set and become one with it.  I watch Sara perform all the time, and sometimes I really do believe that she is having conversations with the equipment and music, telling it what to do and how to affect people.  It really is like a power.

 

KT:  As someone who has zero musical talent, but having watched musicians work and create a piece, I get what you’re talking about: it’s like there’s a bond there that we, non-musical folk, just aren’t privy to. So obviously the musical element is one of the main driving forces behind The Future Prophecy, and it’s being described as a “concept album:” what do you mean by this?

Sara:  In the next stage of production, we will start to release musical tracks to accompany each issue of The Future Prophecy.  In our series, the characters are all based on Toronto’s top DJs and musical talent, and the songs will be composed by the story’s characters.  Each musical track will relate to the story, and describe the theme of each issue, and emotions and/or experiences our characters have.

(KT: To watch the illustrious superheroes and villains of The Future Prophecy performing on stage, check out this video from the official launch party.)

Sara: A few of the artists we’ll be featuring on the album include:  Melleefresh as ‘Dextra Delano’ (electro/dubstep performance artist, DJ and founder of Play Records), King Selah as himself (from House of David Gang, Canada’s biggest reggae band) and Terence Kissner as ‘Gui Guillotine’ (international ‘techno DJ/producer).

KT: Without spoiling too much, what can we look forward to in terms of the other characters?  Can you speak more on this process of identifying powers for each character? How do you select the musicians you did, and are they working collaboratively on this project, or did they just serve as inspiration?

Sara:  The characters in The Future Prophecy are all based on real Djs and musicians, from a diverse range of genres; from techno to electro, to dubstep, reggae and rock.  The inspiration for the characters came from talented Toronto-based DJs and musicians who Melle and I both personally know and respect.  We chose specific DJs and musicians for our project based on their musical talents and unique styles; Melle and I have both known the entire crew for many years.

The artists we selected were inspiration for our story’s cast of characters, and in many cases their individual talents were exaggerated or used as a basis to create their character’s superpowers.  For example, our story’s main characters include:  Dextra Delano, a seductive temptress who paralyzes victims with her scream, and Gui Guillotine, who has a mechanical heart that beats at the bpm of techno.  These powers were inspired by the talents of Melleefresh, a rocking electro house/dubstep performance artist/vocalist and Play Records founder, and Terence Kissner, an internationally renowned techno DJ/producer.

Our cast of artists will be working together this year to create tracks for The Future Prophecy album.  We also perform live as a superhero and villain DJ collective; I highly recommend you check out our next show!

We plan on adding more characters to our series as we move forward, but you’ll have to read our story to find out about them…

KT: Obviously the different characters and musicians all hold their own weight and power in The Future Prophecy, and this is one of the biggest draws in reading: they’re not just characters, but actual musicians. By pairing the dystopian setting and framework with the idea of certain music “gangs” ruling (a la the division of Gotham into each villain/hero’s area in No Man’s Land), is there an intended political leaning to The Future Prophecy?

Melle:  In our story, all structured government has been disbanded or overthrown, so the city is functioning socially and economically on a very primal level.  There is a strong juxtaposition between powerful modern technologies and fundamental daily existence.  The citizens who are pushed to the margins of existence have to band together to create an echo of the life they once knew.  People outside the Bogtown elite have to struggle to merely survive, and this environment creates the impending uprising/rebellion that the central story circulates around.

I think anytime you are writing about ‘The End of Civilization’ and future wars, a bit of political undertone sneaks in there, but the pre-war politics aren’t a major theme in the story.  There are lots of mysterious gaps that the mind has to get creative to fill in, like a pick your own adventure story.  Everyone has their own favorite theories of the apocalypse: nuclear war, zombies, mass infection.  My hopes are for a war that includes giant rideable cats and lightsabers

KT: I, for one, will be pretty let down if there aren’t any lightsabers. Moving on to the idea of fighting and defending yourself in this world, I would love to hear you speak more on the idea of using music and “negative sound waves” to create a super army.

Melle:  I was fascinated by conspiracy theories in my college days, and I tend to nod a lot to those sorts of things in my Sci-Fi writing…mostly because now that I’m a bit older and less terrified of the world so many of them just seem like really intriguing and gruesome fairy tales.

I read an article about 10 years ago on the use of sound waves as ‘correction’ for criminals.  There was a very graphic photo accompanying the article of a man with half of his face burned away and a metal plate inserted over his eye who was a victim of the process.  That story really stuck with me, and the CACU are based on sort of a similar process.  They are assimilated into the mutant CACU army by process of mind control/torture using negative soundwaves.  They are controlled by receiving instruction by way of notes on a frequency that only they can hear and process, similar to dogs and high pitched sounds.  And of course they are outfitted with an array of musical goodies to do their evil bidding, like a giant turntable needle arm that when inserted into the earth can cause massive earthquakes.

KT: I’d like to thank you both for taking the time to answer my questions, and I look forward to seeing more from Sara Simms and the other goodies that The Future Prophecy has to offer!

For now, check out Volume One: Arcanum here and stayed tuned for more on how this band of DJs navigates the end of the world. Want more from the creators of The Future Prophecy? Find them on Facebook, Twitter, or on Instagram: Sara (sarasimms) and Melle (melleoh).

Categories: Comics, Interviews
Tags: apocalypse, Batman's No Man Land, Crossed, Dextra Delano, end of the world, evil DJs, Guid Guillotine, House of David Gang, King Selah, Melle Oh, Melleefresh, Sara Simms, Terence Kissner, The Future Prophecy, The Walking Dead, Volume One: Arcanum, Y: The Last Man

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on April 5, 2013

Once again, it’s that time to jump back into the world of horror comics with your bi-weekly campfire-ghost-story column, Reading With The Lights Out. So far we’ve covered zombies, Cthulu-monsters and fabulous femme fatales, haunted houses, artists who distort our childhood memories, and campy B-side stories. It’s only fair we give vampires a chance to steal the spotlight (and since I’m rewatching Buffy, our fanged-friends have been on my mind lately).

I think it’s only fair to start this off by saying that I am not a huge fan of vampires. BUT this isn’t going to be a post about how Twilight has ruined vampires, and only real vampire fans read Dracula and Anne Rice, because I don’t care who reads what books about vampires. I’m just prefacing with this to explain my hesitation in reading Severed: I’m not a vampire gal, so I had no interest.

But I did love Snyder’s Court of Owls and Black Mirror Batman runs, so I was talked into giving Severed a chance. (Don’t worry, I don’t just blindly love everything Snyder does. I hated Swamp Thing. Hated it with a passion that knows no bounds.) And ya know, I gotta admit that I was pretty impressed with Severed (me being too cool for vampires, of course, so this is a big deal). It delivers a thoroughly creepy story that uses vampires quite effectively:  the vampires don’t overpower the narrative, and they aren’t used as a crutch to deliver chills.

So, here’s a quick plot sum-up: Severed is about a young, adopted boy, Jack, who leaves his safe and warm home to go in search of his travelling-musician father, and en route Jack meets his lovable, streetwise and endearing sidekick bestfriend, and becomes entangled with the wrong sort of fellow. Pretty basic and fairly familiar tropes, right? Right.

What makes Severed so great, though, is the villain, Alan (we’ll just call him by that name, since that’s the one he uses the most throughout the narrative): he’s a vampire, sure, but that’s not really the scariest part of him. If I’m being honest, the whole vampire-thing actually feels really tangential to the horror. It’s the fact that Alan is a predator and a serial killer that makes this story so ridiculously creepy. Because of this vibe, Severed reads more of a don’t-talk-to-human-strangers warning than it does of a vampire story.

The splash page featured on the left exemplifies the terror of Severed, or at least what I found to be frightening about it. In this scene Alan, who is introducing himself to Sam and Jack for the first time, is towering over Sam, illustrating Alan’s strength and power over the younger kids. There is a distinct power differential, which is exactly what Alan uses to lure and collect his victims. This scene, with Sam defenseless, contains all of this. Even if Alan wasn’t a monster, readers would be right to be spooked because the image composition puts Sam completely at this (crazy) stranger’s mercy — a position nobody wants to ever be in.

But beyond this, the other scene that really drives the horror all home is about 3/4 of the way through: for the entire story, we’ve all known what Alan really is, and the tension is built from the fact that Jack keeps (sometimes literally) throwing himself into Alan’s arms – which makes sense, since the kid’s whole motive is to find his father, and he’s understandably lost and suffering from abandonment issues that rival my own. Finally, though, the creepy-bad-touch aspects of Alan are beginning to ooze through to Jack, and he calls Alan a monster — that’s when Alan pops out his dentures and reveals his much more effective set of fangs.

This scene encapsulates all the real terror that Jack is experiencing: Alan is a deranged stranger who goes around collecting and murdering abandoned kids, and this is enough to terrify and upset any sane human being. Alan only resorted to showing his gruesome snarl when Jack was beginning to catch on to the fact that strangers who show too much interest in you too fast are probably up to no good. The point is that we’d be afraid for Jack, even if Alan wasn’t a vampire, because really, using his fangs is just Alan’s preferred weapon — but it could just as easily be anything human and not supernatural. It’s the details that are the most chilling in Severed (and with horror, it’s always the details that matter most).

Alan is specifically collecting young children and tattooing his body with items associated with these boys as trophies. He is representative of a danger inherent in our society, and being a vampire is just a trope to amp up the scream-factor. He’s a predator who takes advantage of young kids and this is a motive and a character that will always inspire terror because they exist in real life. And this is where the horror of Severed comes from: realizing that Alan, without the fangs, exists in our society, our reality. Don’t talk to strangers, folks (especially if they end up being a vampire).

So if you want to read a vampire story, that doesn’t go overboard on dramatic blood sucking (because when Alan does decide to drain a victim, doesn’t just bite his victims, he eats them), or if you just want a good, creepy, and disturbing read, give Severed a shot. And think of it as a warning that yes, while vampires don’t exist, homicidal predators do. And I don’t want to take my chances with either.

Categories: Comics
Tags: Attila Futaki, Reading With The Lights Out, Scott Snyder, Severed, Vampires

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on March 22, 2013

Here we go again, folks! Welcome back to Reading With The Lights Out, your bi-weekly horror column dedicated to unearthing all the mysteries of the horror comics world and to giving your dear old column writer never-ending nightmares. On the stand this week is the first volume of Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez’s masterful series Locke & Key.

While Joe Hill is understandably not using his horror-famed last name of King, the influence of his father shows in his story-telling: Hill knows a good horror story when he sees it. But not only that, Hill knows how to properly tell this story, without falling victim to over-the-top gimmicks to scare his readers. Locke & Key is perfectly paced, building up a current of both realistic and supernatural horror with the side-by-side telling of the murder of Rendell Locke and the mysterious presence that is Echo and Keyhouse. The matching of the reality of serial killers with the tormenting and inexplicable “presence” in the well manages to build the plot, construct the characters and still want us yearning for more. Yes, Hill knows exactly what he’s doing.

Okay, so for those out there who haven’t read the series yet, here’s a quick primer: Rendell, the father of the Locke family and high school guidance counsellor, is brutally murdered by Sam Lesser, one of his students. In the wake of the trauma of not only witnessing this, but narrowly escaping their own bloody ends, the Locke family moves across the country to Lovecraft, MA to live in Rendell’s childhood home, Keyhouse, in order to distance themselves, literally and figuratively, from Lesser and the trauma. And then bad things start happening (because as horror stories have always taught us, houses with names tend to cause major catastrophes and crazy murderers who demand for items that seem mundane, but actually are supernatural, probably aren’t going to stop coming after you no matter what prison you put them in).

Joe Hill manages to effectively take the classic haunted house trope and morph it into the groundwork for a fascinating and intriguing series. It is not just the setting for terrifying events to take place — Keyhouse instead becomes a character, with its own history, its own identity: the type of house that whispers in the dark, even if it is tenantless. Like the house in Amityville Horror, Keyhouse becomes an icon of horror without being campy. While Keyhouse possesses many secrets, not all are revealed. Hill is not rushed and is letting the story fold out the way it needs to. He offers us only snippets at a time, letting the mystery of Keyhouse build into its own urban legend.

Like all good haunted house narratives (Amityville,  and 1959′s House On Haunted Hill) the events that take place are the result of different forces collecting in one setting. The haunted house is the pulling force, the match, whereas the characters are the catalyst: the story requires both because the ultimate terror is the confluence of person and place. It’s not so much that these are random events, that the family just ended up living there. Instead it feels like a destiny, like there were no other options for the Locke family but to go to Keyhouse to unravel the horror and secrets of their deceased father. And it is this sense of unavoidability that gives Keyhouse it’s sense of impending and all-pervasive doom: this is a battle this family would sooner or later have to fight. They weren’t just unlucky passerbys. This is their story, and there is no escaping until it is done.

Gabriel Rodriguez as the artist on board for Locke & Key at first seemed like a bizarre choice (considering he studied architecture and everything, the love and attention paid to Keyhouse makes a lot of sense now). I tend to like my horror art stylized and exaggerated, as was spoken to in the previous RWTLO column on Great Horror Artists, but Rodriguez’s somewhat cartoony and yet wildly expressive, art won me over. The deepest chill I’ve received from any horror story (be it a movie or a comic) was from one of Rodriguez’s panels. I won’t spoil it here because the way your stomach drops when you come across it (about halfway through the first volume) is such a sickeningly thrilling moment. Rodriguez’s use of colour throughout builds to this moment, when most colour is stripped away and all we are left with is an image that feels like we witnessed a demon crawl out of the underworld. It is so perfectly paced and placed that the punch it delivers to your stomach is very visceral.

Rodriguez focuses on what needs to be shown and doesn’t overburden his panels with superfluous detail or distracting backgrounds. Everything is working towards one goal: communicate the emotion of the characters and the horror of what they are going through, both emotionally and physically. The paralleling of the children working through their grief from losing their father with attempting to save themselves from a mystery they are enshrouded in works well to illustrate what being a survivor of an unspeakable trauma would be like: a constant hell. And the fact that Rodriguez’s art is slightly cartoonish makes the characters feel somewhat archetypal: there’s Echo, a seeming incarnation of pure evil, there’s the hero Tyler, the magical child, Bode.

But these are being played with, as we see when Tyler thinks to himself that he will be the hero of the family for saving them. It’s not a straightforward story of good versus evil, as the flashbacks of Sam Lesser’s life illustrates. These archetypes are not natural states in Locke & Key: Tyler has to be put in a situation to emerge the hero, and while he succeeds at some points, he fails at others. It is a learning process, just as Lesser’s descent into madness and murder has been fostered in him by his surroundings and the goading of a malicious force. Locke & Key shows how people can evolve into these tropes, especially through Kinsey’s process of re-evaluating and articulating her identity. What this means for the narrative, then is that Echo, despite appearing evil incarnate, will probably have a very good story to tell. What’s terrifying about Locke & Key is how much of horror is engendered through circumstance we have no control over.

Locke & Key starts off with what very well could be a solid ending to a slasher-massacre style horror movie, in the vein of Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But, like Echo says to Bode, we always think we’re coming in at the beginning of a story, when in fact, we’re actually catching the tail-end of it. In many ways, the murder of Rendell Locke feels like the misplaced ending to the story; in fact, all of Echo’s actions are taken in reaction to Rendell’s treatment of her from his childhood and adolescence. This is the beauty of Locke & Key: while telling one story, it also telling multiples, but none become distracting and the storytelling is never chaotic. The multiple stories intertwine and feed into each other to create an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia, of being trapped in this web — a definite win in any horror story.

Even if the art doesn’t draw you, give Locke & Key a chance. The way Hill and Rodriguez invoke and play with typical horror story tropes will be half the fun for any horror aficionados out there. And the other half will just be the plain, masochistic thrill of feeling the terror build and build until the last page.

Categories: Comics
Tags: Amityville Horror, Bode, Echo, Gabriel Rodriguez, House On Haunted Hill, Joe Hill, Keybouse, Locke and Key, Reading With The Lights Out, Sam Lesser, Texas Chainsaw Massacra, Tyler

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on March 21, 2013

Get excited, everyone. Get really, really excited. On March 20th, 2013, the film adaptation of Image Comcis’ 27: Crossroad Blues (by writer Charles Soule) goes live. It will be an intense month long, all-or-nothing Indiegogo crowd funding campaign to reach the projected film budget of $65,000. Soule is critically acclaimed as creator for the 27 Image/Shadowline series, Strange Attractors for Archaia Press and and DC Comic’s Swamp Thing. James Cooper (Hoax Hunters: Haunchyville, Elijah the Prophet) is signed on as director for the supernatural drama.

27 is a series dedicated to exploring the mysterious “27 club” for musicians (the one where you can only gain admission by being incredibly gifted musically and by succumbing to an untimely death at the age of 27). 27: Crossroad Blues, for those unfamiliar with Soule’s Image Comics series, brings to life the legend of the 1930s blues musician Robert Johnson, who reportedly sold his soul to the devil in exchange for extraordinary and exemplary guitar skills. This story is a popular one, and proves it’s ability to translate well to the screen as CW’s Supernatural (2006) proved with their episode, “Crossroad Blues,” dedicated to the legend. In Soule’s series, the devil turns out not to be the only supernatural entity in contention for Johnson’s talent…and his hands.

“The legend of the bluesman selling his soul at the crossroads is one of the most enduring stories in pop culture, revisited again and again across all mediums.  I was thrilled to create my version of the tale with the original story in my 27 comics universe, and I can’t wait to see what James and the rest of his team do to translate it to film,” says Soule.

“The first time I read the story, I was sucked in by the striking imagery and storytelling. Charles and Renzo created a rich story in only 12 pages, and I saw the film potential immediately. I’m thrilled Charles is giving me the chance to bring it to life,” says Cooper.

Cooper appears more than capable of taking on this thrilling project, as his history with  the film shorts Hoax Hunters: Haunchyville and Elijah the Prophet have proven his ability to tangle with bringing the supernatural and wondrous in comics to the screen. Cooper has already worked alongside Image Comic writers to bring about a trailer for the comic series (you can and should check it out here). Cooper, a fan of both comics and the paranormal, seems like a natural choice for director.

But wait, it gets better. And cooler. And way, way nerdier.

This adaptation of the Johnson legend has attracted some remarkable — and albeit quirky and eclectic — names to the cast and crew. The cast is slated to include Benjamin Watson (LA Complex) as Robert Johnson himself and Christine Horne (Cybergeddon, Flashpoint) as The Nine. For extra nerd-tastic excitement, Erebus will be played by Elias Toufexis, who has had roles on a variety of tv shows such as Smallville, Supernatural, and Lost Girl, but is perhaps most notable for his voice-acting of the protagonist Adam Jensen in the video game Deus Ex: Human Revolution. Not convinced yet? Howabout we throw in that the devil will be played by Stephen Hart, who is no stranger to film adaptations with roles on Silent Hill, Max Payne, Resident Evil: Apocalypse, and of course, Oz The Great and Powerful.

And that’s just the cast. Joining Cooper on the crew side of things is the award-winning Visual Effects Supervisor Martin Tori (Splice, also from Silent Hill and Resident Evil: Apocalypse). The Director of Photography will be Pasha Patriki (The Collapsed), and the film’s original score will be done by Andrew Raiher, whose worked on projects such as Constantine and TMNT. Peter Mabrucco (Attachments) and Yaw Attuah (Trigger, In Between Dreams) will serve as Co-Producers.

Yes. You’ve read all of that correctly. Soule and Cooper have called for their Avengers-level of awesome crew to assemble, and assemble they have. And Soule and Cooper are fully aware of the importance of their fans to their project, and have decided that  when the film is completed it will make it’s debut by touring comic conventions across North America before hitting up the film festival circuits. We love you, too.

For more information about the campaign and to make a pledge, visit www.27crossroadblues.com.

Categories: Comics
Tags: 27: Crossroad Blues, Andrew Raiher, Benjamin Watson, Charles Soule, Christine Horne, Elias Toufexis, Image Comics, indiegogo, James Cooper, Martin Tori, Pasha Patriki, Peter Mabrucco, Robert Johnson, Stephen Hart, Supernatural, Yaw Attuah

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on March 8, 2013

Welcome back! Apologies for the delay in posting this column (I wish I had a great excuse like ghosts were coming out of my computer to attack me until I helped them solve the mysteries surrounding their deaths like in Pulse, but unfortunately the real reason is much more mundane than that — it was just an ordinary house poltergeist!) But we’re back now with a special look at great horror artwork. Horror comics thrive on great artwork to create the perfect bone-chilling atmosphere. As in with any truly chilling works of art, it’s the visuals that that stay with us the longest, burning into our brains like an regrettable tattoo. This edition of Great Horror Artists features artists who work in a stylized manner: rather than opting for realistic portrayals to scare their audiences, these artists use minimal detail and colouring to achieve the right kind of tension and atmosphere.

Emily Carroll:

Emily Carroll’s art is incredibly evocative. She uses lines that are both contoured and sketchy, creating a feeling of becoming immersed in shadows. The minimalist detail allows for a concentration on a particular feeling, specifically of being overwhelmed and of losing one’s insanity. Take Margot’s Room for instance. The blood and broken window are obvious, but not the most deeply felt parts of the carefully crafted image. The drying flowers, the lonesome doll, the single mirror all create a counter to the missing child and blood-splattered bed. The seemingly banal details of the doll and the flowers bespeak an innocence that was present, but is now irrevocably removed and damaged. The rain pouring in and the unspeakable amount of blood replace the usual safe feelings of one’s childhood bedroom with a poignant sense of loss and danger. It is the two opposite symbolic sets working against each other that laden this single image with fear and a disgusted anger.

Carroll’s art zooms in on these feelings and manages to parlay them into perfectly composed panels that elicit both admiration and terror. Her art feels frantic and frenzied, creating a sense of urgency that further amplifies the tension in her work. It is uncanny in that her images are both familiar, yet disturbingly different. She harkens to a specific, mundane reality, yet manages to alienate us from it, creating a dissonance that allows our untamed fears to run rampant. Carroll’s art is like a distorted children’s book, one that plays on typical images of safety and perverting them into our darkest fears.

Colleen Coover:

In much the same way that Carroll’s tandem of deep and scratchy lines works to pull out a desired emotion, Colleen Coover’s more deeply contrasted lines and fuller shading creates an atmosphere that is both foreboding and beautiful. While she is better known for her adorable, cherub-esque art, when Coover delves into horror she manages to create an intensely creepy atmosphere (which is perhaps created in part out of the subconscious contrast to her more innocent work). Take Rose’s Heart for example: the coloured layering, which imitates a watercolour palette, works well with Coover’s intense lines to create an enticing atmosphere. We feel the chill and coldness of the blues in the image to the right because the thick black lines emphasize the colouring. It is hopeless, overwhelming, and freezes the reader with the absence of any warmth.

Her art smothers, seeps into the cracks, and takes complete hold: it is arresting and demanding, drawing the reader’s eyes into the art and holding their gaze hypnotically. Another artist with a similar feel to Colleen Coover is Angie Wang’s Girl Apocalypse: think lines and exaggerated features that create an all-pervading sense of unease. In Rose’s Heart Coover is paying homage to the old gothic horror stories, and it is her minimalist monochromatic colouring schemes that give her story a contemporary vibe.

Sean Phillips:

Sean Phillips work is no stranger to this horror column, as the previous edition of RWTLO took a look at why Jo is such a fantastic horror heroine! Part of what makes Jo so incredible is Phillips’ art and eye for detail. There is something almost palpable in the way Phillips establishes a scene: he provides exactly what is necessary and no more. All the detail is contained in a few elements that are streamlined into depicting the ultimate horror scene. Phillips does disgusting without too much gore, making Fatale feel like a classic.

While Coover and Carroll’s work is heavily stylized while usually being contained within realistic frameworks, Sean Phillips has mastered making the supernatural tangible without becoming campy. In his art, Phillips is selective in what he’ll reveal right away and what is hidden for the readers to stumble upon later on. He walks the line of showing everything and hiding crucial aspects of his monsters/villains because Fatale is so much about what we know, what we think we know, and what we’re not prepared to discover…not yet, anyway.

His characters are not as distinctive in their features, but this works in Fatale because the characters almost feel archetypal in a way: the femme fatale, the brazen hero, the corrupt cop, and the secret society are all familiar tropes. Like Carroll’s work, the uncanny in Phillips’ style works perfectly. They’re familiar, but remarkably foreign at the same time.  The composition in Phillips’ cover art is  particularly effective, drawing the readers’ eyes to the focal points in an almost sickening hypnosis.

It’s a perfect example of the absurd set against the ordinary, which Phillips achieves with his usual dark and diluted tones, set off with well-planned accents. Rather than force your gaze to stay on the accented colours (like in the image on the left above), they work to draw your eye to the more banal aspect, which becomes intensely more shocking and unsettling because of contrast. His reddened fingers and large white circular glasses work in tandem, playing off each other to create a dizzying sickness that conveys exactly the sort of haunted feelings Fatale has to offer.

That’s all for now, folks! Are there any horror artists who have perfected a certain stylized form that leaves you wide awake at night for fear of nightmares? Also, stay tuned for more Great Horror Artists in upcoming editions of Reading With The Lights Out!

Categories: Comics
Tags: Angie Wang, Colleen Coover, Emily Carroll, Fatale, Girl Apocalypse, Great Horror Artists, His Face All Red, Margot's Room, Nineteen, Reading With The Lights Out, Rose's Heart, Sean Phillips, The Red Knife

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on March 6, 2013

Everybody Loves Tank Girl, by Jim Mahfood and Alan C. Martin, is a beautiful chaotic mess of swearing, bodily fluids, and uncensored carnage. The latest installment in the Tank Girl canon (pun absolutely intended) is glorious in its unfiltered destructive zeal. The stories are frenetic and unfocused at times, the social commentary isn’t exactly subtle, and the jokes are non-stop. And this is what makes it so enjoyable. The art is rambunctious, overwhelming, provocative, chaotic, hopped-up-on-too-many-illicit-drugs, and intoxicating: just like Tank Girl herself.

Everybody Loves Tank Girl pays absolutely no heed to traditional narrative expectations. And rather than pander to accepted modes of story-telling, Mahfood and Martin opt instead to do the exact opposite: violate those trusted modes in a glorious manner akin to sacrilege. For example, in Part Three of the main narrative “Everybody Loves Tank Girl,” Mahfood interrupts the traditional story-telling rule of not murdering young children (because well, do I really have to explain why?) by using the single most rejected and hated plot device of them all: the dream device, saying it was all an illusion and didn’t really happen anyways. And this is the brilliance that is Tank Girl. She isn’t just an in-your-face character. She’s an in-your-face character who is refuting accepted norms on the ground that they are baseless anyways. The very narrative structure itself defies audience expectations and standards in a manner akin to flipping them the bird.

This is the consistent theme throughout all of the mini-stories contained inside Everybody Loves Tank Girl: an in-your-face rejection of traditional tropes and stereotypes. The collection begins with TG and Booga offering open-arms to those who are sick of the redundancy and mindlessness of modern life. Tank Girl is offering herself as the antidote for everyone who hates how mainstream society functions. Did you hate Toddlers and Tiaras and the fact that our culture let this show happen? Then Tank Girl is for you!  TG is blatantly disregarding any norms and opting for her own variety of fun. She is an outlaw in every sense of the word: not only has society cast her off, she has cast off normative society, as well.

The first mini-story begins with Tank Girl showing off her newly renovated abode and insulting Justin Boobie (an obnoxious young male “musical” celebrity that possesses absolutely zero resemblance to any existing obnoxious young male “musical” celebrity in contemporary society, of course). This establishes Tank Girl as fiercely counter-culture. Her tour through her home-sweet-tank parallels the stereotypical housewife guiding a proud tour of her house, while her rejection of Justin Boobie manifests Tank Girl as vocally against the majority. These are both lives that Tank Girl is refuting as mind-numbing, since the collection begins with a note from her instructing us that she is a “soothing balm for weary souls.” It’s not to insult the masses (or maybe it is), but the point is clear: don’t blindly follow popular culture. Because then you’re part of the problem TG is trying to fix – by extreme explosions and violence.

Tank Girl continues on in this parodic vein, as well. Later in the collection, we are given “The Tank Girl Guide: How To Dress Quite Good,” a patented TG lesson on how she dresses up for a special night out with Booga. It begins with an extremely provocative pose of her full body in only a bra and panties, which is set against her discussion of why she doesn’t think concerning herself with clean underwear is such a problem by making reference to her own “odd skidmark” and “wee wee stain.” Her body is offered as sexualized, at the same time that a reference is made to bodily functions that  have been typically disassociated from the female body. The female body has been typically presented only to be looked at (according to Laura Mulvey’s discussion of the female body in visual culture), and we’re not meant to think of it as containing organs that excrete waste. It’s a great moment, because it’s effectively saying that you can’t have it both ways. If female bodies are going to be sexualized, you better take into account everything that comes from having a living body, as well. If that doesn’t get the message across, at the end of TG’s guide on dressing up for a smoking hot date, there’s a panel of her cramming her face with food in the most unladylike fashion possible. And know what? She looks good while doing so.

Tank Girl herself isn’t exempt from this claw at society. In “Tank Girl 2: The Motion Picture,” Mahfood and Martin have Tank Girl, Booga, and Barney reclaim the right to their identities and embark on restoring the loss of credibility they garnered through the original unsuccessful Tank Girl movie. While the characters lambaste what an awful mess the movie made of their lives, they set about filming a new movie — that falls victim to the sae errors as the original movie. Barney explains to TG that screwing up adaptations is the modern way, and despite vocalizing her concerns, TG trusts the project to her friend and immediately proceeds to film a topless shot (that’s the Hollywood way!) Unsuccessful, they return to their lives exactly as they were before the whole movie debacle, this time having taken down Hollywood’s attempt to capitalize on a character who refuses to be anything that Hollywood would actually want.

Sometimes Everybody Loves Tank Girl isn’t taking jabs at society because it’s having too much fun swearing non-stop and making fart jokes. For every potential social critique, there’s another mini-story doing nothing but laughing at it’s own jokes. And this is all part of the enjoyment of Tank Girl: we follow her exactly where she takes us, whether it is to a place where we can critique the injustices of the world or to a spelling bee for swearing.

Everybody Loves Tank Girl is fun exploitation-style narrative, comical, and way too assured in itself to care at all what anyone thinks of it. And this is why we do all, in fact, love Tank Girl.  It’s political if you want it to be, but Tank Girl, Booga, and Barney are here for a good time, and their anarchic, irreverent humour and hijinks fits perfectly into counter-culture chaos.  And that being said, it’s now time to go fill the bathtub with vodka.

Categories: Comics, Reviews
Tags: Alan C. Martin, Barney, Booga, Everybody Loves Tank Girl, Jet Girl, Jim Mahfood, Justin Boobie, Laura Mulvey, Tank Girl

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on February 22, 2013

My So Called Secret Identity: Volume One is a story about a normal girl set in an abnormal city and situation, designed around one simple premise: having a female superheroine who is just normal. And the protagonist of MSCSI, Cat Daniels, isn’t a typical superheroine: she doesn’t prance around in spandex, she is anatomically correct, and she doesn’t have superpowers (other than being really, really, really smart).  Will Brooker, part of the creative team behind MSCSI, explains the creation of Cat as coming from a spark of an idea: “Why do we never see women like this in comics – women who are normal, likeable and just really, really clever?” That’s Cat in a nutshell: she’s just your average PhD student, who wears dresses and jeans and possesses a MENSA-worthy intellect.

Volume one is our first ever introduction to Cat Daniels: we are offered a formal introduction to her, her personality traits, the characters who will populate her story, and the setting in which everything takes place. It’s a pretty formulaic first installment, but provides necessary groundwork for readers to latch onto the story and to begin to care for Cat.

In an interview with Brooker, he explains his intrique and focus on studying Batman in his own academic work:

“Batman is just a normal person who never gives up. He doesn’t have special powers, he goes up against incredible odds, he walks with gods like Superman and Wonder Woman, and puts himself in danger every night — even on a normal patrol, he’s deliberately going out against armed thugs, without a gun of his own — and he just keeps on coming. He will not give in.”

This “normal” superhero element is undeniably what makes Batman so fascinating. It’s why people adamantly stand by his side in the inevitable fight: whose better, Batman or Superman? And it is this aspect of the caped crusader that Brooker is trying to recreate in Cat (minus the spandex, of course). Cat is a normal girl positioned in an extraordinary situation, and the thrust of Volume One is watching how Cat responds to the events that unfold around her.

The only problem with Cat is that there isn’t a problem. For someone who is supposed to be a normal superhero, she’s anything but. She’s perfect. She’s pretty, and confident, and smart, and capable, and makes friends easily. Get the picture? I sound bitter, I know. But in Brooker’s attempt to make a great superheroine who is also normal, he missed one essential quality: relatable. Even when she’s being picked on her for looking young, she still overcomes this by turning to her own confidence and ability to shrug off the opinions of everyone around her. Batman gets away with it because he’s not pretending to be normal. He wears his dysfunction on his sleeve.

Aside from my apparent jealousy of a fictional character, My So Called Secret Identity does stick the landing with the setting. Like any good superhero, Cat knows her city. The interesting part of his story is how Cat interacts with her setting, Gloria City. This is her Gotham, and there is no mistake about it. She knows the ins and outs of it, and is able to spot irregularities as if she’s equipped with a Geordi La Forge-esque viser. Gloria is populated with eccentric figures that are only hinted at in the first volume: we know there are some caped vigilantes running amok, but we don’t know who they are or their stories yet. Brooker explains that “They are more like celebrities and reality TV stars than crime-fighters,” which creates an unexplored dynamic about revering superheroes as the rich and famous, rather than a menace to society. Gloria City, with it’s reality-show level of infamy superheroes and villains, is a good setting with quirks and secrets, and acts as the perfect stage for a character, who is caught between normal and superb, to test out her identity.

As both Brooker himself states and as volume one implies, MSCSI is about theatre and performance, especially of identity. Volume one ends with Cat being faced with a costumed-character who appears to pose a threat: his spotlight on her and intimidating stance leaves the readers with a sense of dread. If MSCSI is about performance, then this establishes the ground work for Cat to enact her own sense of self: will she stay the confident, down-to-earth gal that she is or be swept up into the glamour of being a superheroine? If all the world is a stage, then Cat is performing her identity just as Bruce is performing Batman, and the intrigue in MSCSI is seeing how if Cat will be able to maintain herself and her composure in the midst of Gloria City.

Categories: Comics, Reviews
Tags: Batman, Cat Daniels, Gloria City, gotham city, My So-Called Secret Identity, Will Brooker

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on February 15, 2013

Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to the next instalment of Reading With The Lights Out, your bi-weekly terrifying column about the world of horror comics. This week is a special post because February is Women In Horror Month. There are a lot of great blogs and articles circulating right now about excellent female artists, writers, and characters working in the genre of horror, ranging from the well-known to the obscure. For this edition of RWTL, let’s take a look at one of the most enigmatic horror heroines of contemporary horror comics: Jo from Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips’ Fatale.

Fatale is a fantastic run, a series that combines a well-crafted story with art that supports and enhances the supernatural atmosphere almost perfectly. But like any film noir, the story would be incomplete without the dazzling, mysterious and dangerous heroine. But Jo isn’t just the femme fatale; she also embodies a lot of what Barbara Creed discusses as the monstrous feminine, while at the same time reversing this typical association and marking the men in the narrative as abject and monstrous.

For Creed, the monstrous feminine is crucially linked by Freud to fears of castration and sexual difference: these female characters become so fearsome and disgustingly terrifying in the threat they represent to machismo. And Jo, the femme fatale who men fall head over heels for and ultimately ruin their lives for, represents this anxiety to the nines. She is beautiful, sexy, alluring, and leaves a wake of dead bodies in her path.

Beyond the typical castration-anxiety of femme fatales, the monstrous feminine is predicated on women in horror films typically being associated with the abject (which, according to Julia Kristeva, is that which threatens or disturbs the social order). As Creed explains, “the horror film abounds in images of abjection, foremost of which is the corpse, whole and mutilated, followed by an array of bodily wastes such as blood, vomit, saliva, sweat, tears, and putrefying flesh.” The abject is all that is necessary to life, but which is excessive and disturbing of our sense of self: when we think of ourselves as subjects, we don’t consider the bodily wastes that are necessary for our health.

In this light, what is the most interesting about Fatale is the reversal of signs of abjection: Jo is decidedly rather “clean” throughout the first ten issues of Fatale – she is never marked with the usual signs of abjection (bodily excretions), and close-ups on her mouth, face and body paint her as the object of male desire. Despite her own body remaining unmarked by signs of the abject, she is intimately associated with all signs of the abject throughout the narrative: she kills people and leaves them a mess of gore and blood. Significantly, it is the men she encounters who become marked with the signs of abjection.

The first scene of gore is a man’s brains exploding after Jo shoots him in the head. Until Hank meets her, the narrative is clean: there is the funeral, but no bleeding, decomposing bodies yet. Later on, Jo confronts the man who has been the biggest danger to date in the story, and she immediately marks him with signs of the abject: she calls him out on pissing himself, situating him as the object of abject, not herself. Aside from physical violence, there is the destruction wrought by men’s desiring of her, as signalled in her lipstick smudge on Hank’s collar: it is a mark of feminine excess, specifically linked with sexuality, which creates the rift between Hank and his wife.

While Jo may not fully embody the monstrous feminine, her involvement in the lives of the men around her situate them as abject, and thus make them monstrous. Her position as the femme fatale creates a counterposition for the men in the story as monstrous. Creed talks about the monstrous feminine as being that which prevents the male from taking their presumed place in the Symbolic order (thus for Kristeva the mother is monstrous because she threatens to restrain the child and prevent them from entering the typical masculine order). Jo’s impact on the men in the narrative create this disruption: Hank, rather than being the hero cop and proud husband and father, descends into an obsessive life of near-madness and disrepute.

Creed goes on to explain that:

“In some horror films, the monstrous is produced at the border between human and inhuman, man and beast; in others the border is between the normal and the supernatural, good and evil; or the monstrous is produced at the border which separates those who take up their proper gender roles from those who do not and abnormal sexual desire.”

Jo’s violence sets her up at the border for the readers. She is human, but not. She is good, but evil. She is marked by the stereotypical signs of femininity, but she is more three-dimensional than just the femme fatale. Jo exists exclusively in this liminality, fluctuating between subject positions depending on the situation: she is good when she saves the day, but evil when she ruins people’s lives. She is the monstrous feminine in her representation of the castration anxiety, but she also marks men with the typical signs of abjection and the monstrous feminine.

The gender dynamics are in flux: she is damsel, she is heroic, and this is what is fascinating about Fatale (other than the fact that it’s a Lovecraftian noir, of course). She is monstrous, and she makes others monstrous. She embodies castration anxiety, but she is also sexualized in a fairly stereotypical way. She is both the monster and the only hope for salvation, and that is the source of much of the terror of the narrative.

Categories: Comics
Tags: abject, Barbara Creed, Ed Brubaker, Fatale, Jo, Kristeva, Monstrous Feminine, Reading With The Lights Out, Sean Phillips

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on February 14, 2013

Sometimes, when it comes to love, people just cannot help themselves and keep falling for the same type of person again and again. Some like brunettes with glasses, others a special kind of person with a rebellious side. Scott Summers, the courageous and nefarious leader of the X-Men, is no exception, and appears to have a penchant for illustrious telepaths with a bit of a destructive side. The love story of Jean Grey and Cyclops is perhaps one of the most well-known superhero romances. But what about his relationship with Emma Frost? Emma and Scott have a companionship that is more about true partnership, and less about awkward affairs with angst and anger-ridden allies.

So, what’s the story here? After Cyclops has his mind controlled by Apocalypse, Emma takes on the role of psychic therapist, helping Scott deal with and sort through the trauma of being controlled by the most infamous villain in the X-world. During this time, Scott and Jean have grown farther and farther apart (with Cyclop’s Apocalypse-mind-meld and the Phoenix re-manifesting in Jean and all). During this time of healing Scott develops the deep connection with Emma that will later sustain them for the majority of their relationship. It is a connection based on growth and acceptance, an acknowledgement of what each one truly is and can be.

Emma and Scott began as a mental affair, meeting only in their minds. Seems like a pretty fool-proof plan, except for the fact that Scott’s wife is also a telepath and stumbles upon Scott and Emma in bed together…in their minds. Brings a whole new level to the is-wanting-to-do-something-and-imagining-it cheating debate. Jean, the hypocritical scorned wife that she is, humiliates Emma and breaks her into a million pieces, only to reassemble her shortly after. During this process, Jean comes to realize that Emma actually loves Scott and that their affair isn’t just a fling. Shortly after this Jean Grey is killed (for good this time), and Scott, grieving and angry, begins to move on and enters into a public relationship with Emma. His moving on with Emma isn’t a slight against Jean, but a signal of his change: he is no longer the same Scott that married her, after all.

So what makes them so great together? They feed on each other and support each other in a way that encouraged Cyclops to become the leader that was necessary for the X-Men. While Scott’s hero versus villain status is still under contention, there is no denying that he gets the job done. He knows what risks are involved and he’s no longer afraid to take control in order to protect all of mutantkind. Rick Remender, in an interview regarding Emma and Scott’s love life, sums up Scott’s moving on from Jean to Emma as the transition from “boyhood to manhood.” Jean’s death, and Scott’s subsequent actions (both as part of the X-Men and personally) reflects a change in attitude that is almost inevitable after the death of his wife and the life-long persecution of his people.

Scott hardens, loses his idealism, and grows into the leader who will stop at nothing to protect mutantkind from fascist and uncaring foes. And Emma Frost, with her own no-nonsense, do-what-needs-to-be-done attitude, is the perfect companion for him. Scott and Emma grew into a power couple that dared to be reckoned with because they supported each other and knew that doing what was right wasn’t easily defined and sometimes involved making the tough decision. As Cyclops became steadily more dissatisfied with Professor X’s leadership of the school and the X-Men, the necessarily militant leader that Scott is now began to form. And it was Emma, long-time X-Foe turned good guy, who stood by his side.

Now, Emma doesn’t come without baggage, either folks. Jean had her Logan, and Emma has her Namor. In AvX, Namor is a constant threat on the outside, desiring not only Emma, but taunting her about her position as second-best in Scott’s life. The threat Namor poses isn’t exactly the same as the threat of Logan with Scott and Jean, because at the time, Scott and Jean were still figuring it all out; they were kids forced to deal with protecting themselves and their family from constant persecution and extinction. Scott was bound in an idealistic mindframe and Jean’s betrayal and subsequent death act as the catalyst for his evolution into a character who is bigger, stronger, and more of a force of sheer power. When Namor taunts Emma by saying that Scott doesn’t love her as much as he loved Jean, because “he married the redhead,” he is exposing the evolution of Scott’s character. Cyclops now is a military man, a leader who has earned respect and loyalty, and while there may not be a place for Emma as Scott’s wife, she is the rock who helps him along this path and keeps him together.

Then comes AvX, when things become a little messed up for the ultimate power couple. If Scott’s move from Jean to Emma signals his move from a boy to a man, then Scott’s break-up with Emma (after stealing her Phoenix Force powers to become even more powerful) signals a very deep rift in Cyclops, not just from his lover, but from his stalwart position on the X-Men. Scott always loses someone when the Phoenix Force comes into play it seems, and the loss of Emma signals a loss of his stability, as well. Emma was his support, his compassionate companion who understood him and his motives, in a way Jean never did nor could. He was able to rise up from the death of Jean into a better leader, stronger, confident and willing to do what needed to be done to protect his people, his family, all with the help of Emma Frost. What will he become without her?

Categories: Comics
Tags: All New X-Men, apocalypse, Avengers Versus X-Men, AvX, Cyclops, Emma Frost, Jean Grey, Logan, Magneto, Namor, New X-Men 128, New X-men 139, Romance, Scott Summers, superheroes, Valentine's Day, Wolverine, X-Men

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on February 5, 2013

There’s Lead In Your Lipstick: Toxins in Our Everyday Body Care and How to Avoid Them by Gillian Deacon is part manifesto, part DIY cosmetics, part shopping companion and part your mother-standing-over-your-shoulder-watching-you. With an endorsement from David Suzuki on the cover, there’s no doubt that what Deacon has to say about how harmful the chemicals found in our cosmetics are to both ourselves and our environment is worth listening to.

There’s Lead In Your Lipstick is not for the faint of heart. Deacon allows no pretenses in her conversation with the reader throughout the book. In the introduction she proclaims: “The argument is no longer one of women’s politics; it’s one of human health.” She’s not messing around here. Deacon’s no-nonsense approach may be offputting, and once you start reading There’s Lead in Your Lipstick there’s no stopping: the book keeps building momentum, invoking instance after instance of all the harmful chemicals found in our cosmetics. It’s not just lipsticks or mascaras Deacon shows are harmful to us, but also unisex items like shampoo, body wash, and toothpaste. This isn’t a feminist debate for Deacon. It’s a debate about humans and our safety.

The wonderful part of There’s Lead in Your Lipstick is that Deacon offers solutions. This isn’t just proselytizing about how horrible the cosmetic industry is. Instead, it offers solutions found within the cosmetic industry by pointing to products, companies, and websites that sell chemical-free and safe cosmetics. For example, for lipsticks she offers suggestions such as Lavera Lipsticks, ZuZu Luxe Lipsticks (she even hails ZuZu as the MAC of green cosmetics). Because some of these items can be hard to locate or potentially too pricey, when possible, Deacon provides homemade recipes for cosmetics such as her lipbalm, composed of sweet almond oil, fresh cranberries, and honey. She takes this idea of offering solutions one step further, too, by providing an entire breakdown of ingredients to avoid and which items they are usually found in. She also provides websites, such as Leaping Bunny, that focuses on humane cosmetic brands and products. It is daunting in scope, but Deacon doesn’t shy away from her point or coddle the reader.

Despite the brazen tone, Deacon is careful to never condemn women who wear non-green makeup or who are reading this book out of curiousity, rather than being fully converted. She places the blame on misleading marketing tactics and general misinformation, with her goal being to educate, inform, and help. For instance, she provides the non-judgemental tip about bringing your empty lipstick tubes to MAC, who while not being green, do offer a reuse/recycle policy with old lipstick tubes and other cosmetic containers. And for all her talk about being health-conscious and green, Deacon does put her money where her mouth is. There’s Lead in Your Lipstick is printed on 100% recycled, FSC approved, ancient forest friendly paper. Inside and out. An expensive endeavour, but it makes Deacon’s point: there are certain issues we should not compromise on, and our health and the health of the environment are the two most important.

Categories: Bookworms
Tags: David Suzuki, Gillian Deacon, There's Lead in Your Lipstick, Toxins in Our Everday Body Care and How to Avoid Them

Posted By Kaitlin Tremblay on February 4, 2013

Contropussy, written by Emma Caulfield (Buffy’s own Anya) and Camilla Outzen Rantsen and with art by Christian Meesey, is a very weird and incredibly fun read. Contropussy follows the life of a cat: a housecat called Sonnet by day and a femme fatale by the name of Contropussy at night. Make no mistake, Contropussy is a contemporary embodiment of the attitude of exploitation films and underground comix of the ‘60s and 70s. Double O, a dog and the main love interest of Contropussy, appears exactly like the Kangaroo Men in the exploitation-style comic Tank Girl, and this homage brings to the forefront the controversy surrounding sexuality and sexual partners inherent in both comics.

Contropussy is brazen in its talk of sexuality. The first introduction to the titular heroine involves her monologue about masturbation, having a one-night stand with a stray cat, and reminiscing about her break up with her partner, Double O. True to any spy-thriller, the story itself focuses on Contropussy’s own adventures and mishaps, involving rescuing her friend from a cat brothel, international abductions, and the thrills and dangers of falling in love.

While Contropussy is very true to form in imitating the comix style of unapologetic “what can I get away with?”, it is taking place in 2013 and not 1970. The cultural implications of the gender dynamics and overt sexuality are still at the forefront. There is no escaping the reverberations of inverting and playing with typical gender dynamics, especially when using the James Bond spy-thriller genre as a framing device.

The punning name “Contropussy” is a clear homage to the most famous Bond Girl names, such as Pussygalore and Octopussy. She is the hero of this tale, oozing sex appeal and commanding respect, while Double O is relegated to the position of sex object. Sadly, the Double O character doesn’t receive any in-depth characterization to flesh out this parody: throughout the narrative he remains the sex object and love interest for Contropossy. Despite this, towards the end of the graphic novel, Double O does provide one of the best laugh-out-loud situations when he attacks Todd Akin, ultimately aligning him on the feminist side of the sexuality debate.

Contropussy achieves a sexually empowering effect throughout the narrative. Caulfield offers Contropussy, a very sexualized character, as a way to illustrate that sexual liberation is entirely different from sexual exploitation. Early on in the novel, Contropussy saves her friends from a cat brothel (by defeating her arch-nemesis Evil Rabbit in a in-your-face-kung-fu battle), showing that there is a difference between embodying sexuality and having that sexuality controlled, used and exploited (as further cemented through Double O’s attacking of Todd Akin for his “legitimate rape” comments). Contropussy is very smart and works the exploitation/homage to the comix scene incredibly well.

Beyond the politics, Contropussy is a fun read. The narrative style reads like an old-school film noir. For example, Contropussy describes a character who “walks across the street like a slow, slow drag off a cigarette after a really long day.” As well James Bond, Contropussy parodies other typical spy-thrillers like Hitchcock’s North by Northwest, offering a narrative that shifts the power from women in spy-thrillers as fetishized sex object to main protagonist. By inverting typical dynamics found in spy genres and by using the exploitation style of the underground comix scene, Contropussy is designed to shock and delight. And if the name itself isn’t a giveaway, there are plenty of shocks and boundaries being pushed. The use of animals works on an allegorical level, illustrating tensions found in the sexual relationships being exhibited, but it also provides shocks and laughs on a basic, literal level.

The stylized art is pitch-perfect for all of the intents of the narrative. Both realistic and exaggerated, Meesey’s art evokes the glamour of thriller movies, while presenting raw, unapologetic visuals at home in comix. Rather than offering a structured narrative that centres around one achievable goal, Contropussy reads episodical, due to its origins as webcomic, where we get scenes and stories that are bound together through the reader’s devotion to the characters, rather than a defining storyline. Contropussy is funny, exciting, action-packed, and so much more in-depth than just a cat behaving badly; it is a story you just can’t help but cheer for.

Categories: Comics, Reviews
Tags: Bond Girls, Camilla Outzen Rantsen, Christian Meesey, comix, Contropussy, Double O, Emma Caulfield, Evil Rabbit, exploitation genre, IDW, James Bond, NerdSpan Hot Topics, North by Northwest, Tank Girl, TNT Jackson