Reflections In Soup

In my first article for SPUF on 100 Bullets, I gave the run-down on Agent Graves and his mysterious offer of retribution-without-consequences (via the titular case of untraceable ammunition, and a file of dirt on the scumbag who ruined your life) (It’s worth seeking 100 Bullets out and giving it a read – you can read a bit about it here and get it on Amazon over here.).

I said something about Brian Azzarello and Eduardo Risso – the team who (along with Dave Johnson on the covers) brings the world of 100 Bullets to dynamic, cynical life. There’s more to say, but before I do: I want to paint a picture.

I wish I could paint, or draw, even a fraction as well as Risso does.

But I can appreciate the subtlety and pure artistry of his work, and wanna do something in the way of pointing it out.

Hence these under-1000 (I’m thinking (at, currently, 112 words in this installment) more like 500 tops) essays on single panels or pages from comics. Cuz you can explain a plot or share your favorite snappy comebacks, but a really well-made comic can only be experienced by reading it properly.

I sped through 100 Bullets, enthralled by its plot and cast of dangerous misfits. But in reading it again (and again:), I’ve taken more time examining the artwork. Risso has a remarkable gift for facial expressions, which convey little quirks of annoyance, particular flavors of despair, and the nuanced wariness of people who know they live in a dangerous world because they’re part of why that is so.

The photo above comes from the start of The Counterfifth Detective: a five-issue arc which imitates the style of Raymond Chandler with seemingly uncanny ease. Like other recipients of Graves’ offer for no-strings-attached vengeance, Milo Garrett is suspicious–but he’s a detective, so that comes with the frosted-glass door with his name stenciled on.

You can see that in his eyes, even though the rest of his face is hidden by bandages.

This page captures a moment, as the soup drips back into his bowl–one of the photorealistic details which Risso uses to great effect. Often, panels in this comic feel loaded with potential energy. Graves moves into the light from a darkened doorway (a symbolic image). The world through Milo’s eyes is always hostile – if he doesn’t have something to fight, he picks one. As a character says of him later, “Milo would pick a fight with the sky if he didn’t like its shade of blue.”

Not everyone in the world of this comic is like that, but it’s an attitude suited to their universe. What doesn’t kill you… might come back when you’re off guard.

Keep your eyes open – Azzarello’s plot and dialogue bounces through dialects, sings with conflict and heartache. But the quiet subplots and counterpoints woven into the fabric of the story deepen the sense that things happen here, beyond the street corners and high-rise offices and swamps (actual and metaphorical) of its central cast.