Two superstar independent creators combine their talents on a series with a wholly original premise. Do these two great tastes taste great together?
Written and Lettered by John LaymanCover by Sam Kieth
Illustrated by Sam Kieth
Colored by Ronda PattisonWhat kind of thief leaves a single feather at the scene of the crime? Perhaps one that has a talking, painting-eating, oversized Egret as a pet — a pet that gets more oversized the more paintings he eats! Sounds fun, right? Except for some of the people now determined to stop this thief, who is anything but!
This series being my first exposure to both John Layman and Sam Kieth, I’m constantly awed by the skill level on display here. Layman knows how to draw you into a scene, and Kieth succeeds at rendering a surprising variety of layouts and design styles from page to page. Yet for all the technical mastery, this book isn’t clicking for me.
Plot-wise, Layman is still in the early stages of setting things up. There isn’t much of a plot here. A few major actions happen, but even then they’re mostly (aside from the final four pages) things we also got in the first issue. Given that, this ends up being mostly a character piece.
It’s hard not to be drawn to a talking egret who grows in size with the more paintings it eats. There may not be much character there yet, and it may skirt the line of grotesque at points, but it’s a giant talking bird-friend. Ellis the Egret gets points just for that. As for Eleanor, this issue gives us a bit more insight into her feelings about what she’s doing, though we still don’t get much in the way of motivation.
For all of the characters, I’d say we get more information about who they are through the visuals than through what they do. Eleanor is someone who will dress up in sweatpants, a baggy sweater, and a beanie — a straight-up burglar outfit — to pull off a heist, a tanktop and shorts at home, and then a lacy top when infiltrating a gallery. She goes anywhere and will do anything to achieve her goal, always dressed for the part and with a smile on her face. And that is all made real by Kieth, who gives all of the other characters similar visual cues to help define them.
In terms of art, Keith shows that he is willing to go absolutely anywhere with “Eleanor and the Egret.” The first few pages contain drawings of various animals, each drawn in a style that complements the animal being drawn: the elephants have big bold outlines with non-uniform lines denoting the wrinkles in their skin; the tiger is composed mostly of groups of thin straight lines to represent fur; the rhino’s rough skin is mostly drawn through stippling around tiny circles. This scene doesn’t need any of these animals to appear, much less be the central design element on the page, and yet Kieth chooses to draw them as if they are important. It’s almost as if he’s choosing to draw whatever he wants, instead of what would best fit the script.
And that’s the root of my issues with the book. Kieth draws extraordinarily well, yet it doesn’t always fit the story. Likewise, Layman writes some solid interactions and looks to be building towards something, but it doesn’t always fit Kieth’s art.
My problems with “Eleanor and the Egret” become more apparent when looking at the panel-to-panel progression. The book just doesn’t flow naturally for me when trying to observe both the writing and art. The art flows perfectly when looked at on its own, and the dialogue establishes its own rhythm. It’s when they try working together that things fall apart.
Take, for example, one page where the detective and chief inspector talk to each other. A page-length panel taking up the left side of the page shows the inspector, looking off-panel at the detective, while a small cat and dog interact. On the right side of the page, three panels, the sides of which curve to accentuate the inspector’s curvy body, show their conversation. In between the characters, a wall of Layman’s word balloons scrawls down the page, becoming an essential design element of the overall page. The dialogue flows effortlessly back and forth between the two characters, each has their own distinct voice, and by the end of the page, something is achieved.
Continued belowTechnically, it’s all perfect. Yet in reading it in the issue, I was taken out of the moment in trying to enjoy both the art and story. The art had perfect little details, like the cat and dog, and it made sense from panel to panel. But the words that were being spoken moved at a completely different pace. It’s as though we aren’t truly seeing the entire scene, even though we’re reading every word. Would more panels have helped? Would less dialogue have helped? In truth, it’s probably a mixture of both: these creators seem to each be moving at their own pace, which unfortunately isn’t the same. No matter how great their individual skills may be, they aren’t meshing like they should.
All told, there’s certainly a lot to appreciate about this book. These creators, when looked at individually, are each turning in something admirable. When combined, though, I can’t help but think the execution falls flat.
Final Verdict: 6.5 – Exceptional technical skills from top creators doesn’t mean much when they don’t work well together.
