All hail spooky season! Let the ghouls moan, the zombies grumble, and the skeletons dance helter-skelter across the pages of our comic books. If there’s one thing comics can do like no other, it’s horror. Who doesn’t have a childhood memory of flipping through an older sibling’s comic book, or taking something off the shelf at the library, only to come across the most macabre, weird, eerie images you’d ever seen? There was fear there, certainly, but also intrigue, and desire. “Nightfall: Double Feature” #1 brings that dark, seductive energy to its two stories, each of which is haunting in its own way. The two stories are ‘The Cemetarians’ and ‘Denizen,’ in that order. Let’s crack open this casket and take a peek at the darkness that awaits us.
Cover by Jason Shawn AlexanderNightfall: Double Feature #1
Written by Daniel Kraus, David Andry & Tim Daniel
Illustrated by Maan House, Chris Shehan
Colored by Kurt Michael Russell, Jason Wordie
Lettered by Jim Campbell, Andworld Design
Reviewed by Kobi BordoleyGrab your popcorn and clamber into your sleeping bag for two tales of terror from the creative teams of The Autumnal, The Plot, and Resonant! Two incredible stories in one volume!
The CEMETERIANS
After human bones begin growing inside inanimate objects all across the globe, a renegade scientist and brilliant theologian delve into the cemeteries where the bones originated, discovering an otherworldly force tired of being buried in darkness.DENIZEN
A family’s cross country roadtrip goes off the map and into the unforgiving wilds of Joshua Tree National Park, when mom and wife-to-be Helene succumbs to a malevolent force tucked inside an abandoned camping trailer.
The first story in “Nightfall: Double Feature”, ‘The Cemetarians,’ is written by Daniel Kraus, illustrated by Maan House, colored by Kurt Michael Russell, and lettered by Jim Campbell. ‘The Cemetarians’ feels like an end of the world buddy cop story that’s light on humor and high on existential, eerie dread and wretchedness. The story follows Alan Hogarth, a disgraced scientist whose life work is too try to capture and recreate the images from people’s near death experiences, and Ivy Bell, an equally disgraced, heterodox priest (or woman of faith?). The unlikely duo are hired by a shadow Colonel Mizrahi, and tasked with getting to the bottom of a disturbing global phenomenon: bones keep spontaneously showing up where they shouldn’t. Sometimes it’s innocuous and creepy, like tiny skeletons showing up in a little girl’s doll, sometimes it’s terrifying and morbid, like a woman’s wedding dress turning into a ribcage and crushing her from the outside in. Alan and Ivy traverse the country, stopping in dusty motels and forlorn cemeteries, looking for clues and waxing poetic about philosophy, religion, omens, and death.
In truth, ‘The Cemetarians’ is like True Detective on steroids. The mysticism and fantasy are turned up to 11, and the enigmatic exposition hits just as hard. In lesser hands, a story like this could feel overwritten and corny. While Kraus doesn’t skimp on the exposition, the quips between Alan and Ivy feel natural enough to keep us engaged, and while the main premise (spontaneous ossification) is a little hokey, it’s treated with this kind of neo-noir severity that just works. The characters in ‘The Cemetarians’ are taking things seriously, and we form up behind them. The moody, dense flashbacks and prosaic nature of ‘The Cemetarians’ might not be for everybody, but if you’re looking to sink your teeth into a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore this spooktober, you could do much worse. But truly, the art is what takes ‘The Cemetarians’ to the next level. Maan House fills the pages with dark shadows, shaded faces, and an ability to move between impressionism and hyperrealism all in the same panel. Not many people can pull that off, but House does. The result is an unsettling aura that pervades the story, turning the mundane frightening and the frightening into the terrifying. Russell’s pale greens, deep sea blues, and sickly sunset reds, yellows, and blacks only add to the eeriness.
If ‘The Cemetarians’ drops us head first into an existential, unfurling dystopia, ‘Denizen’ takes a different approach, and shows much more than it tells. This makes for lighter reading, but it’s just as engaging–if not more so–than ‘The Cemetarians.’ This one is written David Andry & Tim Daniel, while the art’s done by Chris Shehan. Jason Wordie is on colors, and Andworld Design covers the letters. ‘Denizen’ reads like a classic horror movie: curious and disturbing prologue, followed by a cold cut to a happy go-lucky family on a roadtrip. There’s a mom, step-dad, moody preteen, and endearing teenager. Mom and the new step-dad are in love, the family is making memories, and the RV hums with the sounds of campfire songs and unbridled potential. This one’s for the photobooks! It would be a shame if things fall apart and step-dad’s trauma demons descend upon the family, possessing them and turning the RV into an inky black abyss. But alas, so it goes. After a rainy night in Joshua Tree, the family finds themselves alone (or so they think) as other visitors have moved out. What follows in ‘Denizen’ is somewhere between a possession story and a demon summoning. We really don’t know what’s going on, but it’s scarier than hell and has us pulled in with the force of a thousand ghoulish arms, of which there are plenty in this story. The writing is snappy, and the humor is top notch. One moment with the teenage daughter and a broken bottle stands out, and would almost seem like satire in another setting. But Andry and Daniel are better than that, and weave a tale with nearly 4th wall breaking humor as well as true, real, scares. The vibes are just immaculate (and demonic). This story really could go anywhere, and we can’t wait to see.
Maybe that last sentence really captures what’s going on in the two stories in “Nightfall: Double Feature” #1. They each just have…a particular ethos, and a self-confident horror story energy that we trust immediately, the moment we’re dropped in. This was the first time in a while where the “to be continued…” really felt worth the oomph it’s supposed to convey.
Final Verdict: 9.0 . Tactile, fearsome, haunting — this is horror of the finest quality.
