Uncaging Bitch Planet #8

Or a look at panel grids as story motifs in Bitch Planet #8
by Kelly Sue DeConnick, Valentine De Landro, Cris Peter, and Clayton Cowles; Image Comics

Bitch Planet is ostensibly a feminist take on exploitative women in prison movies. I say ostensibly, because despite some stylistic similarities to pulp film, this comic is doing some pretty complicated thematic heavy lifting. Most of the thematic substance of Bitch Planet has to do with intersectional feminism, an area I am eminently unqualified to essay about. So in lieu of that, I think it's worth looking at some of the structural/layout motifs used in the comic to convey narrative information.

There will be *SPOILERS* in this post.

The above sequence is an example of a "normal" layout in Bitch Planet. It is clean, uses different sized panels, and provides a clear narrative space. The fact the panel size is varied creates a flexible storytelling where the panel number and relative size can be modulated to serve the events depicted and to customize the reading experience. Like in the above sequence, where the comic depicts a father cleverly determining that his beloved daughter, a noncompliant prisoner, has secretly died, this storytelling can be effectively used to create heart rending, brilliant comics. It's a very good business as usual.

The first page of every issue of Bitch Planet has used this 12-panel grid layout. I've written about this approach before, but it bears repeating here in the context of BP #8. These pages, like the selection here, show women living in the "compliant" world, behaving within the patriarchal, garbage world of Earth. This approach ties layout to the motif of control that exists within the Earth of Bitch Planet since the 12-panel grid is a very rigid, orderly, and somewhat old fashioned storytelling approach. It is a comic style that bends the action depicted, the movement of the characters to a set layout, which is an approach that puts the system before the action/characters. It is a strong, visual metaphor for oppression. The white panel gutters of a 12-panel grid also forms a shape reminiscent of prison bars, making these pages look like the view through an idealized cell window. We are gazing into, or perhaps out of, a prison. This sequence, and it's counterparts in other issues of BP, provide a wonderful example of how layout and structure can create visual, thematic motifs.

I bring all of this up again because Bitch Planet #8 uses another panel grid system as a stylistic motif. In this case the comic uses an 18 panel grid to create a unique visual identity and a sense of a unique storyspace. The basis of this grid is the 1-2-3 panel row which has actually been used and riffed on throughout the series. This three panel row, usually featuring the two guard/engineer/controller guys interspersed with surveillance video has been an ongoing visual motif that has been used to showcase the separation between Noncompliant prisoners and their guards, the attitudes/plight of the guards, and the pervasive surveillance the NC's live under. Here this three panel motif is repeated over and over to create an 18 panel grid. The first 5 rows of panels in the grid are directly the 'usual' layout with one of the 'usual' controller-guys, which provides information to the reader that they are viewing a story sequence that takes place in the controller's location/distinct storyspace. The 16 panel grid carries through to remind the reader that the following events remain within the special controller-space. What is particularly interesting about this is that the actual illustrated spaces do not conform to the 16 panel grid, but rather the underlying artwork is overlaid with the grid and broken up. This is a pretty good sign that the grid here is more about a visual motif/sensation than about the direct storytelling of the actions. Which is pretty cool. 

Beyond being a visual signifier of location (controller-land), this motif manages to capture the emotional sense of what it means to be one of the controller/guards. The 16-panels break the page into many small windows to see the action, like the bank of surveillance screens the controller-guys use to watch the prisoners. I also find that, particularly because of the way the panel gutters infringe on the underlying artwork, that these panels remind me of grating. It's as if the reader is peaking through an airvent or stormcover or, to geek out, Jeffry's tube gate to see a secret, mechanical space behind the comic. It really sets the world of the controllers up as a technical, but behind-the-scenes space and not part of the prison world or compliant world of Earth. It's evocative and a great use of layout as motif.

Previously:
Uncaging Bitch Planet #1
Uncaging Bitch Planet #2
Uncgaing Bitch Planet #3
Uncaging Bitch Planet #4
Uncaging Bitch Planet #5
Surviving Bitch Planet #1

Pondering About Pretty Deadly #10

Or a look at contrast and story fulcrums
by Kelly Sue DeConnick, Emma Rios, Jordie Bellaire, and Clayton Cowles; Image Comics

Pretty Deadly continues to be one of my very favourite comics both as a reader and a comics wonk. It is perplexing, challenging, and virtuosic. With the issue #10 the second chapter closes on an appropriately spectacular note. The fulcrum of the issue in particular I think is a really amazing feat of comics, and I really want to take a closer look at it. It's inherently spoilery though. 

This post will contain *SPOILERS* for Pretty Deadly #10

To me this is the fulcrum of the comic, the turning point between an unwinnable conflict and the epic conclusion of the comic. It is also a wonderfully constructed moment that brings nearly every component of the comic together to create a tipping point, a honed moment of contrast that the story teeters on before crashing into resolution. And I think the way the contrast here is constructed and used is really interesting. 

The first page of the spread is a sequence of action and fire and blood. The page shows the armed combat between War and Ginny in a swirling open storyspace. The page flows along sweeping slashes of red capes and carnage and blood that trail across the page and drag the readers eyes through the violence quickly and precisely. It is idealized motion and a very quick page to experience. It is also a page of reds and hot smouldering greys, a page of fiery, passionate colours. It is a fantastic page that encapsulates everything I love about the portrayal of action in Pretty Deadly.

The next page is almost the perfect opposite: it is still, and structured, and cool. The page shows Cyrus, the would be Reaper of Courage, taming the Reaper of Fear. The page is broken up into eight discrete panel-areas, including inset panels which provide structure to the page and slow the progression of the reader and expand the sense of time. It creates stillness. The way the clouds and mist hang in the air, enhances that sense of stillness, since they could only linger like this in the absence of motion. And the colour palette is calming too, blue-grey and icy. It is artful, and beautiful and haunting. 

The way these two pages come together and interact though, is what is truly special. The fiery motion of the left page stands in distinct contrast to the cool, still page on the right. This puts both pages into sharp relief: the violence is brighter and the peace calmer for having the two moments in juxtaposition. It sets both pages as distinct and powerful, especially the right page since it is such a complete visual and structural departure from what's preceded it in the issue. It feels like a turning point built of opposites. At the same time, the pages feel balanced to me, as though even if they are opposite, they are somehow equal. That the combat and motion on the left are as important, as valid as the calm, and stillness of the right page. Which for me, signifies that an act of bravery, that calmly facing ones fear is just as strong, as powerful as actively fighting. To me, it's as if the two pages are balanced on a kind of narrative scale, and it's tipping this scale that is the climax of the comic. Which, to balance a story on such a keen edge, narratively and artistically, is a tremendous feat of story construction. 

Pretty Deadly continues to be remarkable comics. 

Previously:

Pretty Deadly #8: On colour

Pretty Deadly #7: On perspective

Pretty Deadly #6: Layout stanza

Pretty Deadly #5: Pulling it off

Pretty Deadly #4: Designing brutality 

Pretty Deadly #3: Yet more Holy Shit Moments

Pretty Deadly #2: Holy Shit Moments depicted with Holy Shit artwork
Pretty Deadly #1 pt. 2: The Song of Deathface Ginny
Pretty Deadly #1 pt.1: Breaking Rules

Interrogating Black Widow #4

Or a look at some of my favourite storytelling in Black Widow #4
by Chris Samnee, Mark Waid, Matt Wilson, and Joe Caramagna; Marvel Comics

Black Widow remains a very exciting comic to analyze from a comics wonk perspective. With issue #4 the creative team delivers another instalment filled with skillful and interesting storytelling. Unlike previous issues where I could find a worthwhile throughline to frame an analysis, Black Widow #4 showcases a pretty varied mix of techniques. So, I guess in honour of this being issue #4, I'm going to discuss four sequences that I find fascinating. 

There will be *SPOILERS* beyond this point.

1. I've talked about this before  but Team Widow is really, really good at creating dynamic sequences that use eye tracking to focus the reader and create a sense of motion. This sequence is another great example to this approach. The page opens with a panel that has the black silhouetted Widow in the bottom left corner, then uses the tank-things to create a guide to Widow in the top right panel. This gets the reader efficiently across the page and sets the stakes of the sequence: one covert agent against a place with sci-fi tanks. From the top right panel, the reader drops to the next panel where Black Widow tosses a stone, which guides the reader back to the left, across the page in a carriage-return, and into the next panel where the stone hits the guard. Action, movement, consequence. The reader then moves onto the following panel where distracted-guard is hauled bodily out of frame in a way that synchs the readers eye path to the motion. The following panel, with the guard running, uses the angle of the guards body (and implied motion) to create an arc to the alarm box and inset circular panel. We see the SHNK effect in the round panel, and then carry across the page, creating the down-and-to-the-left motion of the guard yanking the alarm lever. This brings the reader to the bottom left panel where the heavy black of Widow creates an initial focus point. The reader then moves down and through the knife thrust, using eyes and the blade as a guide, and smoothly into the final panel where the long blood smear takes the reader to the end of the page where Widow is dragging the corpses. It is also significant that this final panel's motion seems to carry right out of the panel and into the next page which helps keep the motion going (something that was pointed out in this great video breakdown). It's a great, efficient, and exciting page constructed out very fluid eye tracking. 

2. Another aspect of Black Widow I've talked about previously was the use of misdirection in panels to hide story elements in the periphery of panels. This page here has another pretty remarkable example of this. In this case the page opens with Black Widow and two corpses she dragged out of the previous page. Widow is looking up toward the next panel which gives a great guide to focus the reader on where to go next. The reader enters the next page and sees that the guard in the middle of the panel has a brighter colouring and is the most visually emphasized part of the panel. If you are a reader like me, you then move onto the next panel and see Widow breaking into a room and go, wait, what? And then you maybe loop back to the previous panel and find Widow hidden in the top right corner of the panel. She is drawn as a black silhouette blended into the shadow of the wall/turret. This makes widow another black area in a part of the page rich with identical heavy blacks and very easy, I think, to miss. Especially since the one guard is emphasized so prominently by the colours. This is a fantastic choice since it has Black Widow literally sneaking through the panel! Which is awesome!

3. Black Widow #4 also has a tremendous quiet section where a wounded Natasha speaks with Iosef, apparently a former teacher who rescued her. The entire sequence is a feat of acting and atmosphere and how to make exposition interesting, but this sequence here I think is superbly executed.

One of the key aspects of Black Widow for me, is that we do not get direct thought narration from Widow. Black Widow for me is defined as being supremely competent and vaguely mysterious. Making this work in a comic where she is the central character requires a certain degree of inaccessibility to the protagonist: we can't see her literal thoughts without losing that critical ambiguity. At the same time, for the story to be compelling the reader needs to have some glimpse of the protagonists inner life. Which puts a huge burden on character acting and colouring to provide enough emotional queues that the reader can engage with the protagonist. Black Widow absolutely nails this.

The other challenge of this kind of storytelling is conveying critical story information in visual, organic ways. This above sequence functions to show that Iosef and Widow know each other from the past. In a thought narration comic this would be accomplished, probably, by a caption like: "Ah, Iosef, my old teacher. I haven't seen him in years..." In Black Widow it is all about visual information. We see a flashback, made obvious by the sepia colouring of a faded photograph. In this flashback we see a recognizable Widow, although a younger version of her, with an unknown man. We then see an older man, haggard but still recognizably the same man probably. Which, is actually a pretty remarkable feat of figure drawing. The thing that removes any ambiguity, though, is how the two characters relate to each other.  Iosef and Widow have the same spatial relationship throughout the page with Widow prone and to the left of Iosef throughout the page. This is especially true of the top right and bottom right panels where the poses are nearly identical and create an obvious parallel. By the time we leave the page we understand the relationship between Iosef and Widow without it ever being explicitly stated and that is really, really smart storytelling.

4. From a purely comics wonk perspective I think this page, though, is my favourite in the issue. 

The top half of the page provides a sequence of Black Widow sneaking into a secure facility in a series of inset panels on a maze-motif background. This is a great choice because it uses the symbology of a maze to convey to the reader that Widow is forced to navigate a convoluted route to reach her objectives. This allows the reader to appreciate the time and complexity of Widow's implied movement without having to depict every step, which reduces the space needed for this chunk of story. The use of the maze motif is also pretty interesting because, for me at least, it calls to mind the wire lines of circuitry. This along with the perspective, I think, makes the round panel in the top left feel like a shot taken by a nearby security camera. Which implies, along with the earlier pulled alarm lever, that Black Widow has been observed by the masters of the base she is infiltrating. To me this is part of the comic telling the reader, without making it explicit, that Widow is sneaking into a trap of sorts. It's pretty cool stuff.

The bottom half of the page is where I think some really nifty, if easily overlooked choices are being made. The sequence here is pretty straightforward: Black Widow, having snuck her way to her goal stands behind a dramatically opening door. The execution here, the way the story is constructed, is perfect. The most obvious aspect of this is that as the door opens, the amount of open space in the panel increases. This is enhanced by the shape of the panels which are not square, but fall into a shape with a angled top. This means that as the doorway opens, the panels themselves become taller and more "open" to the reader. In addition the angled top line helps sell a sense of upward motion to pull the readers attention from bottom left to top right. (To get a sense of why this is effective, compare it to the diagram that does the same shot using static square panels.) This sequence uses yet another trick as well: the perspective of the panels ascends with the door. By this I mean each subsequent image is aimed a little higher along Widow's body (which I breakdown in the bottom diagram). What this does is create a sense of upward momentum to the sequence since the door and the perspective are both ascending at the same time to create the feeling of motion. (Again, comparison to the static square diagram will show just how much more dynamic the ascending perspective is.) This choice also has the additional advantage of letting the final panel focus on Widows determined/angry eyes. Which all combined makes this three panel sequence have a tremendous amount of momentum that all focuses on the Widow in an important, solid emotional beat before the next part of the story is unveiled. It's a fairly effortless reading chunk of story constructed out of some very smart, complicated storytelling and why I think Black Widow is such an exciting comic to read and analyze. 

As an aside, the maze motif also recently popped up in Bitch Planet #8 by Kelly Sue DeConnick, Valentine De Landro, Cris Peter, and Clayton Cowles. In this sequence the characters are sneaking through a prison during a blackout to find a secret, isolated prison cell. Again the use of the maze motif is used to efficiently sell the idea of movement through a convoluted story space without investing a large amount of space to it. In this case, the maze motif is particularly apt because the characters are navigating in the dark from a hastily memorized map. It's a great choice that shows how convergent solutions to similar story challenges can exist.

Previously:
Black Widow #1

Black Widow #2

Black Widow #3

Pondering About Pretty Deadly #8

Or some thoughts on colour in Pretty Deadly #8
by Kelly Sue DeConnick, Emma Rios, Jordie Bellaire, and Clayton Cowles; Image Comics

Something that I continue to find fascinating about the current iteration of Pretty Deadly is just how dream-like the comic is. Between the lyrical story, indistinct yawning battlefields, and supernatural elements, Pretty Deadly feels to me like its constructed out of the collision of a dream and a nightmare. Pretty Deadly #8 takes this sense to the next level, letting the supernatural elements take centre stage, and really unleashing some truly feverish artwork. It's horrible and beautiful and effective. An important element of why this comic is so effective is a great use of colour.

There will be *SPOILERS* for Pretty Deadly #8.

The battlefields of Pretty Deadly are muted, dark places. Instead of a colourful world, filled with verdant life, the battlefields are barren places constructed of desaturated colours: greys and grey-browns and grey-olive-drabs. I'd say it's as if the world has been bleached, but the overall colour palette is also particularly dark, colours showing a certain black tone that further increases the gloom of the page and gives the artwork a kind of claustrophobic heaviness. The effect, when summed up makes the battlefields of Pretty Deadly feel like nocturnal zones, a kind of world of twilight that to makes me think of sleep and alienation and a kind dream-logic gulf. It's effective stuff that I think really showcases just how lost and lonely Cyrus, the protagonist of the comic, is. 

Pretty Deadly #8 also introduces a new colour palette that takes a different approach that adds to nightmarishness. The comic features the confrontation between The Horsemen Big Alice and Deathface Ginny and the rogue Horseman of War as well as their proxy/allied armies. This conflict happens in the midst of green clouds of toxic gas and the whirling blood and viscera that are hallmarks and visual signs of War and his power. This choice significantly enhances the nightmare quality of the page. One of the fundamental aspects of colour theory (and really about the limit of my understanding of it) is that certain colours are 'complementary', that they are opposite colours that essentially clash in a way that is striking to the eye. Red and Green are such colour complements, and their use together here makes both colours surge off the page with a feverish intensity. It feels and looks unnatural, lending to the nightmare reality of the comic. It also, when contrasted against the dark, muted palette of the usual battlefield, makes the green/red pages painfully intense. The switch from green/red page to dark/barren page gives the issue a seething pulse, that again evokes the feelings of nightmares and malaise. It's... so effective that staring at the colours now to write about them is enough to get my vertigo going a little and make me feel nauseated. It's great stuff.

Pretty Deadly #8 is a noxious fever dream, and its colours are enough to make me feel sick.

Previously:

Pretty Deadly #7: On perspective

Pretty Deadly #6: Layout stanza

Pretty Deadly #5: Pulling it off

Pretty Deadly #4: Designing brutality 

Pretty Deadly #3: Yet more Holy Shit Moments

Pretty Deadly #2: Holy Shit Moments depicted with Holy Shit artwork
Pretty Deadly #1 pt. 2: The Song of Deathface Ginny
Pretty Deadly #1 pt.1: Breaking Rules

Pondering About Pretty Deadly #7

Or a look at the relationship between disorientation and spatial context in Pretty Deadly #7
by Kelly Sue DeConnick, Emma Rios, Jordie Bellaire, and Clayton Cowles; Image Comics

I have been trying to put my finger on just what I like about Pretty Deadly #7. There is something really cool about the way the comic is depicting the war blasted wasteland of WW1, that is kind of elusive and hard to articulate. I think it's that the depiction of trench warfare in the comic is somehow both nightmarishly indistinct while still grounded in an a relentless, granular sense of place. And I think a sequence in Pretty Deadly #7 is a great example of this.

There will be *SPOILERS* for Pretty Deadly #7 below.

The battlefields of the First World War have always stuck in my imagination as barren moonscapes.: sort of a brown-grey desolation filled with a kind of dreamy vagueness. And I think Pretty Deadly captures that sense by portraying a dark, open world devoid of life and vibrant colour. Which I think captures the sheer inhumanity of that war and a sense of how emotionally lost the protagonist of the story is. At the same time, Team Deadly has done a fantastic job building a discrete sense of place into this nebulous barren zone. Like, take the trench system on the left: it has the fine grained detail and subtle human touch that lend the broader nightmare wasteland a critical sense of realism that grounds the more fantastical aspects of the setting.

The tension between the nightmarey-vagueness of the battlefield setting and the granular realism of the comic, I think plays out spectacularly in the gas attack sequences. The page on the right devolves into a whirling cloud of toxic gas that the protagonist flees through in a swirling reading path without obvious reference. At first the character seems hopelessly mired and lost. But on a closer examination, the motions of the character within the page depict a clear set of motions which played against the previously viewed trenches reveals the character arming himself and moving to cover. It's the application of spatial storytelling to a chaotic anti-space.

And this page plays with same tension but in a wonderfully different way. Instead of having the character navigate an indistinct toxic cloudscape, the cloudscape effectively navigates around the protagonist's fixed perspective. The hook of the page is that the round panels are the restricted view of the character looking out of his gasmask. As such the comic has a clear implied sense of place: the area immediately around the character, but is still nightmarishly indistinct: the severely limited view of the character is just as disorienting as the thick smoke of the previous selection. It's a great, emotionally resonant effect.

I think this page, though, is my favourite. It is a wonderful example of the beautiful, brutal violence that I think characterizes Pretty Deadly and it showcases the clever page construction that allows the reader to quickly navigate through the key action on the page. This sequence also uses the same combination of disorienting setting with a really rigorous application of spatial positioning. This composition is, at first glance, spinning madness in an indistinct toxic cloudscape. The use of a perspective that wildly rotates around the protagonist lends the page a bewildering insanity that is punched up by the noxious red/green colour palette. It is pure feverish nightmare. But at the same time, the individual moments of action occur in a distinct spatial context. If you deconvolve the action and imagine each snapshot of violence depicted from a single, fixed perspective it all fits together perfectly. This page very much has an implied, mundane reality constructed into it that despite the madness inducing expressionism gives everything clarity and a realistic context. Which really makes this page a spectacular fusion of gritty realism and supernatural horror that is, I think, at the very core of what I love about Pretty Deadly.

Previously:

Pretty Deadly #6: Layout stanza

Pretty Deadly #5: Pulling it off

Pretty Deadly #4: Designing brutality 

Pretty Deadly #3: Yet more Holy Shit Moments

Pretty Deadly #2: Holy Shit Moments depicted with Holy Shit artwork
Pretty Deadly #1 pt. 2: The Song of Deathface Ginny
Pretty Deadly #1 pt.1: Breaking Rules

Pondering About Pretty Deadly #6

Or a look at narrative structure in Pretty Deadly #6
by Kelly Sue DeConnick, Emma Rios, Jordie Bellaire, and Clayton Cowles; Image Comics

A return of Pretty Deadly means a return to essays talking about why this comic is so, so good. I don't really have any preamble: so without further ado, I'm going to take a look at how artwork, script, and lettering intersect to create different modes of storytelling in Pretty Deadly in what I think is a pretty spiffy way.

There will of course be *SPOILERS* for Pretty Deadly below.

I've written a lot about what I like Pretty Deadly, pulling specific examples of how individual sequences are constructed to artful, or impactful, or just generally effective storytelling. What was maybe lacking is some of the broad factors of Pretty Deadly, the general things this comic does exceptionally well that help make it such a pleasure to read. One of these things, I think, is how the story is organized on a structural level, and how this creates these discrete moments.

Take this page here: the main story of the comic opens with a wide open establishing shot of a wild west homestead. Then the story provides this palette establishing sequence of snapshots: tight, singular moments of noise or sensation that build this moment or feeling. In this case a bleak frontier roughness and a kind of undefined sadness. With this emotional moment established the comic moves into new story information: a sickroom and an obviously old woman being given a drink before the page deploys it's final moment and coda. A final moment that structurally the whole page builds towards, and which comes to this sharp point that redefines and provides the context of entire preceding sequence. A final moment that is also sharp and barbed, which cuts to the truth of the page in a pretty brutal and honest way, and opens the way for the story going forward. It's a very effective way of pacing the page and creating this moment of narrative clarity that I found very engaging.

These inverted storytelling triangles can be found throughout Pretty Deadly #6. Emotion palettes are established, a wider angle panel shows the main events, and then the composition hones in on that key moment of frisson that completes a narrative moment and advances the story. It's this repeating storytelling device that builds and delivers a complete narrative moment. Which... it's like a stanza of comics. Which is an interesting approach since it lends Pretty Deadly #6 a decided poetic sensibility and also gives much of the comic a structured, deliberate rhythm. Which makes this triangle device not only an effective way to generate beautifully charged story moments, but also a metric that provides the majority of the comic a narrative identity.

The sense of narrative identity that the inverted-triangle-stanza delivers becomes important in the most supernatural moments of Pretty Deadly #6 which have a completely different story structure. Instead of the tight, mechanical layouts used to make the triangle-sections work, the mystical moments of the comic adopt a more open format and a swirling, organic flow of the narration and artwork. This creates a clear demarcation between the mundane and magical portions of the comic, which goes a long way to making the supernatural parts of the comic feel distinct and special. It's a really smart use of contrasting layout approaches.

Which is all evidence of the kind of general storytelling brilliance on display in Pretty Deadly and how macroscopic, repetitive storytelling choices can be really effective.

Previously:

Pretty Deadly #5: Pulling it off

Pretty Deadly #4: Designing brutality 

Pretty Deadly #3: Yet more Holy Shit Moments

Pretty Deadly #2: Holy Shit Moments depicted with Holy Shit artwork
Pretty Deadly #1 pt. 2: The Song of Deathface Ginny
Pretty Deadly #1 pt.1: Breaking Rules