Fialkov and Infurnari kicked off a disorienting, futuristic tale in “The Bunker”; five months later, we’re still reeling. “The Life After” from Fialkov and Gabo carries a similar sense of scale and complexity, and if this Oni Press title doesn’t hit home with quite the same urgency, there’s still plenty to get your cogs turning in this perplexing first issue.
Written by Joshua Hale Fialkov
Illustrated by GaboIn an infinite city built on infinite sadness, there is one man capable of breaking free. He will go through Heaven and Hell to save us all. Literally. A fantastical coming of age journey through the afterlife and beyond from Joshua Hale Fialkov (THE BUNKER, THE ULTIMATES) and breakout artist Gabo!
“The Life After” starts off like something awfully familiar. We’ve got a man stuck in a routine, whose every move feel predetermined; his world seems artificial, controlled by an all-powerful organization. Let’s see – he’s going to “wake up” soon and go through some kind of existential crisis, right?
Well, sort of. While the first few pages may set up a cliched scenario, things quickly get weird. And gory. And disturbing. And then they’re just confusing. But still enjoyable.
Let me back up a little.
We start off with some first-person narration. Our main character, Jude, is well-spoken but not showy, describing the sights and tastes and small frustrations that punctuate his everyday life. And while, as I said, it feels like we know where this story is going, the subtlety of the narration at this early moment keeps things engaging. I actually was ready, during the first few pages, to enjoy a riff on The Truman Show. It’s the “how” of things that distinguishes a good story, after all, and from the get-go “The Life After” feels fresh, intense, and personal.
I say this even though Gabo’s art doesn’t hit you over the head. The thin, frittered lines and murky colours certainly keep things oppressive; and while the likenesses and proportions don’t feel as consistent as they could be, there’s an engineered flatness to it all, a sense of compression and grittiness that impresses. All the while, the out-and-out weariness of Jude’s expression drives home what we’re beginning to understand from the narration.
It’s the rhythm, and not the content, of the early double-page spread that really sparks interest. Featuring fifty (fifty!) evenly-sized rectangular panels, we experience fragments of Jude’s everyday life. And while it’s all mundane stuff – a living room, a bus ride, some typewriter keys – the precision of the staging has a strong cumulative effect. We’re slowly drawn into Jude’s world, moving closer and closer to Jude himself as the sequence goes on; and facet by facet, the claustrophobia becomes palpable.
I can’t go much further, plot-wise, without either spoiling the whole issue or else delving deep and making this an annotation column. Suffice it to say that there are lots of details that need accounting for in the comic’s second half; but while several mysteries are set up, the overall arc of the issue rings out clearly. Our main character has his world turned upside-down, and while that’s par for the course in a first issue, the abruptness of the turn lends the story an extra edge.
As Jude’s environment shifts (I’m being as vague as possible here), Gabo’s colouring choices step to the forefront. These keep the structure of the issue clear, articulating the changes in reality that are necessary for us to understand in order to engage with the mystery. In and of themselves, the palette choices are pleasing to the eye; an unexpected hit of lavender offsets the heaviness of the first few pages, and some delicate washes of sepia calm things down as we settle into a new locale.
The gore that I mentioned earlier isn’t so much gore for gore’s sake as it is a heightening of a traumatic moment. It’s not our first signal that this comic is going to be different than expected, but it’s certainly the most emotional beat in the book, and a jarring contrast to Jude’s bored-but-not-suffering frame of mind. Gabo underscores the viscerality by keeping our camera at a distance; we’re made to feel like bystanders who have witnessed more than enough to be implicated.
Continued belowThe only line of dialogue that doesn’t ring true is one of Jude’s lines as he tries to say some words of consolation. This kind of moment is usually portrayed as awkward in its own way, of course, but things come off a little too pat here, with a stock sentiment provoking an enthusiastic reaction. And while I’m sure this shallow quality is meant to add to the surreal atmosphere, it feels out of place coming on the heels of such a visceral scene.
The last few pages take on a zanier tone, with some whimsical dialogue between Jude and an unexpected character bringing some relief. These pages are the strongest in the book, visually; the larger, spacious panels work just as well as the concise, compressed ones, but their effect is amplified by added nuance and texture in the colouring. The alternating shades of perplexity and jolliness that come across in the new character’s expressions are also lovely, selling the oddness of the world Jude is about to face.
This may be the vaguest review I have ever typed, but the experience of reading “The Life After” is anything but. So far as confusing comics go, this one is deliberate and deftly-constructed, playing you like an organ and relishing every note. Gabo’s art is rough around the edges but compelling, proving its versatility as the issue goes on; by the end, it’s impossible to imagine a different vision for this story. And while the plot has you confused by the time you get to the last page, it’s a thrilling kind of confusion, asking you to make what you can of the clues while making it clear you’re not figuring this out on your own. And if you take that notion as a challenge, well – “The Life After” is likely the comic for you.
Final Verdict: 8.5 – An absorbing first issue with heaps of potential.
