McCay cropped Reviews 

“McCay”

By | December 24th, 2018
Posted in Reviews | % Comments

“McCay”, published in English by Titan Comics, is a massive, gorgeous, fantastical tribute to the cartoonist himself – and I’ve got more adjectives if you need ’em.

Cover by
Jean-Philippe Bramanti

Written by Thierry Smolderen
Illustrated by Jean-Philippe Bramanti

Get ready for a dizzying dive into the ‘McCay dimension’ with this equally true and false tribute to the undisputed master of the imagination! McCay is an ‘invented’ biography, chronicling authentic – though only partially true – stories of the life of the future creator of Little Nemo, Winsor Mccay – in which McCay’s life is enriched by an imaginary encounter with British mathematician and science fiction writer Charles Hinton… and glimpses of the fourth dimension!

I would have loved to make this book part of my “Keeps It Real” column, but it only takes a few pages to see that “McCay” is no biography. While it spins together details from Winsor McCay’s life, the “Little Nemo” creator is ultimately cast as a kind of interdimensional superhero, on the hunt for a murderer that can kill in an instant.

Why choose McCay for this role, you ask? You only have to look at his art, and his dizzying handle on perspective, to feel like the guy possessed a unique sense of how the world is put together. Combine that with his love of dreams, and a flight into the world of the fourth dimension doesn’t seem so much of a stretch. It’s in this headspace that “McCay” plays, fully expecting a suspension of disbelief but dragging you along for the ride whether you manage it or not.

As we jump through McCay’s career, an early (invented) encounter with mathematician Charles Hinton proves pivotal, marking the beginning of nightmares for McCay when he attempts to imagine four-dimensional objects. The shadowy figure of Silas, an anarchist and, seemingly, the voice of McCay’s worst fears, stalks the cartoonist through the narrative, and emerges as a monster indeed.

Later, McCay’s pioneering work in animation is brought into the mix and becomes a mechanism for exploring the fourth dimension – a concept that, I would argue, almost pushes the fantastical aspect of the narrative too far. It might just be that I think McCay’s animation work is fascinating enough without help of embellishment, but I don’t know – rewatch Gertie the Dinosaur, remember he made it in 19 freakin’ 14, and get back to me.

Jean-Philippe Bramanti’s art is, in a word, magnificent, crafting, big, big spaces worthy of McCay himself and populating them with deftly realized characters. The overall feeling, though, is painterly where McCay was precise, and there’s a soft, unreal glow to the proceedings. You know you’re in good hands once you get to the Chicago World’s Fair – the vistas are gorgeous, golden, and they make you feel tiny.

McCay himself is tangibly quiet and hesitant, speaking under the brim of his hat and sometimes pondering so hard, you can almost hear cogs turning. The other characters are flatter by comparison; we really are inhabiting McCay’s lens on the world. This said, the minor characters are still memorable, with a surprise appearance by Houdini breathing charm and vigour into a figure we’ve seen reproduced so many times.

An understated but memorable visual moment has McCay and Hinton wandering through the Egyptian collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Their figures are lively against the deep shadows, and Bramanti’s use of colour is particularly striking, nestling museum greys against yellows and browns. Then, as natural as anything, McCay finds himself walking on the ceiling. It’s all so deftly composed that you barely notice it happening – but conceptually, the feat underscores the content of their conversation nicely.

Overall, the colours are a main selling point, forever sneaking up on you as Bramanti alternates limited palettes and varied ones. As you might guess, the world of imagination is the most colourful of all, but the inside of a theatre in all its blues and blacks is somehow just as captivating.

Sometimes we veer a little too far in abstraction, and it becomes difficult to tell the characters apart – particularly as the plot gets more and more wild. But overall, Bramanti’s art is masterful, containing multitudes and getting better the more you look at it – not unlike a McCay comic strip.

The book ends on a metaphysical note, although you could argue that all the notes leading up to it were metaphysical, too. Still, it’s satisfying, and oddly sweet, lending emotional resonance to the story without pushing too hard.

Simply put, “McCay” is a big ol’ book with a captivating broad-strokes plot and fascinating small details. It’s an Experience™ and it knows it, forgoing absolute coherence and shooting for the logic of a dream. It’s not for everyone, but it sure is an accomplished piece of work, and one you can return to many times with equal fascination.


Michelle White

Michelle White is a writer, zinester, and aspiring Montrealer.

EMAIL | ARTICLES