“Canto” #2 sees our titular character escape the confines of his home and venture out to try and save his love’s heart. He meets more than one Malorex along the way, but the good creature design and earnest storytelling can’t quite catapult “Canto” into a compelling story rhythm. Warning: spoilers ahead.
Written by David M. BooherCover by Drew Zucker
Illustrated by Drew Zucker
Colored by Vittorio Astone
Lettered by Deron Bennett Lions and tigers and… Malorex, oh my! Canto slips out of captivity only to find a herd of vicious Malorex ready to eat him. Can an unlikely friend help Canto survive long enough to see what lies beyond Arcana’s borders?
“Canto” #2 continues a very heartfelt comic that may be trying a touch too hard. The story revolves around an enslaved race whose hearts have been replaced with clocks, ticking ever down toward their eventual death. It’s a lyrical touch in a winsome comic, but that earnestness needs to be earned as we get to know Canto over time. Booher and Zucker pack the pages of this book with cuteness and symbolism, and try to go for that magical lonely, or quiet, quality that many comics like this one achieve. There are some issues that preclude a clean sweep, however.
“Canto” is a book that desires “lovely” as its descriptor, and it mostly is. Canto as a character is relatable, though somewhat more of a blank slate than desired. His people’s struggle is heartfelt, and his mission clear and commendable. The montage at the beginning is effective, crisp and powerful in its simplicity, but a lot of that clarity is lost in the rest of this issue and its predecessor. Zucker’s character designs are incredibly detailed and laden with significance, but dialing back a few analogues in the story might serve the book a bit better. For example, it’s not lost on readers that Canto and his race are dressed like miniature knights while their lore is a very familiar mythical journey of a simple boy who embarks on the Hero’s Journey to become exactly that. The clock analogy is familiar, as are the Minotaur-esque slave drivers and even the WWI-style trenches Canto and his people dig into. There’s fog, though we’re not entirely sure why, and a forlorn and blasted landscape. There are creatures that are amusing and sinister without venturing too far out of the realm of the familiar. Any one of these elements is fine on its own, but together they paint a rather bewildering picture of Canto’s world. Booher clearly means for the wide array of details to lend richness to the world, deepen the mystery and pull our focus to Canto for a personal story, but we end up lingering more on the side of confusion or, unfortunately, clutter.
There’s also a common issue with perspective. Canto and his people are very small compared to the rest of the creatures in the world, and while issue #2 boasts some good panels of Canto looking almost swallowed by the scenery, there are action scenes that feel too chaotic or zoomed in to get through without puzzling over flow. Zucker often features half of a character in a panel for some forced perspective, and it doesn’t always feel claustrophobic or intense in the right way. It most often feels like the page is cut off prematurely, or there are one too many bodies in a scene to handle correctly. Zucker employs a crisp line and lots of fine, cross-hatched shading for good texture, but we’re not always hitting a good balance between the intimacy of Canto’s point of view or the broad omniscience needed to correctly place him in the wide world outside what he knows. Zucker often goes for a bewildering middle ground between the two, or cuts so quickly between them it’s disorienting.
Astone employs a rich fantasy palette that doesn’t always lend itself to that necessary clarity, either. One nighttime splash in particular has a lovely gradient feel, but it takes a minute to locate the friendly Malorex on the ground and, in turn, Canto in relation to him. The page’s real estate is meant to be given over to repose and intimacy, but that mood is somewhat broken by the strain of trying to place everything. Going for brighter colors could possibly cheapen the story, as it’s meant to be somewhat grim, but a little more monochrome might do the trick as well. Still, Astone’s work is nuanced, and does well to highlight the best parts of Zucker’s art. Canto’s colors are often reflected out in the world for some good visual symmetry, and possible foreshadowing of his and his people’s significance.
Continued belowBennett’s lettering is clear and mostly blends into the book, which is a good thing. Unobtrusive lettering makes for a clean and quick read, and any ornate flair or styling on this font would fight pretty heavily with Zucker’s detailed backgrounds. Bennett wisely keeps things economical and doesn’t add too many flourishes, and sound effects are also deployed with the same care. The lettering is a bit of a respite from some of the problems detailed above, and there’s never a chance of losing the dialogue thread throughout.
Overall, “Canto” is an ambitious book, and it does have quite a bit of authentic emotion woven through it. There’s just too much on the page in terms of detail both narrative and artistic, and the fluctuating point of view makes the visual storytelling hard to parse. It’s not over yet, either, and there’s plenty of time to right the ship. “Canto” is enjoyable, and it has appeal for a broad range of comic fans young and old.
Final Verdict: 6.5 – “Canto” #2 reaches for our heartstrings but stumbles over its own intricacy.
