“Proxima Centauri” #2 might not be for everyone, but if you’re fan of alternative comics or simply looking to shake up your pull list, it’s a highly unconventional yet fully captivating experience that’s well worth your time. (Warning: minor spoilers ahead.)
Written, Illustrated, Colored and Lettered by Farel DalrympleCover by Farel Dalrymple“PROXIMA CENTAURI,” Part Two. Critically injured, amulet and protective spells failing, no friends or help in sight, Sherwood Presley Breadcoat escapes his problems by delving into his memories of his first days on board the Scientist’s ship.
Somewhere along the line you’ve probably fallen victim to the infamous “circle game.” Basically, it goes like this. Someone touches the tips of their thumb and forefinger together to form a circle. Then, they hold it off to the side or down by their waist, at the edge of your peripheral vision. If you happen to glance down and see it or, God forbid!, look at it directly, they punch you in the shoulder and no doubt laugh like a lunatic.
It’s stupid. It’s childish. It’s fun.
Unless you happen to be the one on the receiving end of the prank.
In the opening pages of “Proxima Centauri” #2, the book’s epically named protagonist Sherwood Presley Breadcoat coyly pulls this trick on the “angry bully” that gleefully shot him down in the final pages of the debut issue. With his magic amulet Smiley not working and his shoulder bleeding, sitting in a shallow lake dotted with what appear to be giant artichokes, Sherwood mutters, “I only have one spell left.”
Confused, the bully glances at Sherwood’s hand, in the shape of the aforementioned circle. Busting him immediately, Sherwood manically exclaims, “Ha ha! You looked, sucker!” Even more perplexed, the bully simply says, “So?” Sherwood snaps back, “So? You’re a dick.” Suddenly, the still unnamed bully inexplicably finds his trigger finger paralyzed. Moments later, he gets his bloody comeuppance.
Yeah, it’s a little bonkers. It’s probably also helpful to know that our hero is a bitter, angst ridden teenager who’s found himself stranded 4.2 light years from earth in some sort of extra-dimensional space station where the conventional laws of space-time don’t seem to apply. Consequently, it feels a bit futile or even disingenuous to try to describe the meandering, self-referential, circular, dream-like plot. There are memories and flashbacks, inner monologues and cut-aways and consistently mind-blowing artwork. To be clear, the story certainly has it’s moments, but it’s far less important than the immersive spectacle that is solo creator Farel Dalrymple’s illustrations.
Ostensibly, the events of “Proxima Centauri” are part of Dalrymple’s shared universe. In recent interviews on the subject, Dalrymple has referenced a sequence of panels in “The Wrenchies” where Breadcoat is said to be “trapped in this dimensional cage kind of thing with some other random people.” For the completists among us, perhaps, it may be fun to keep this in mind. For the casual reader, however, it hardly seems to matter.
Irrespective of the timeline or bigger picture, Dalrymple’s inks have a loose, spontaneous, almost “found art” quality to them, as though they could be the pages of a long lost notebook. His lettering reinforces this feeling, with a style that mixes cursive with printed letters, as well as dialogue that appears in balloons intermixed with additional side comments that feel like after-the-fact annotations.
Dalrymple’s illustration style is similarly varied. In several panels and pages it has a distinctly indie feel, with tons of intricate detail and seemingly random exotic creatures encircling the action, as if they’re spectating along with the reader. Other times, like when he draws the wizard Almendra’s spirit animals, the style is much more realistic and traditionally rendered, seemingly cribbed from a children’s picture book. Intermittently, it’s abstract, with certain pages and expansive panels composed of images and characters that flow together in viscous, multilayered collages.
Most intriguingly, our experience of Dalrymple’s artwork mirrors that of the main character, giving everything a visceral, first-person feel. When Shaky Space Wizard appears, for example, his head is encircled by multicolored miniature planets, as though he’s his own solar system. Slightly taken aback, Breadcoat asks what we might be thinking: “Are those little spheres magic or tech?” Clearly a little miffed, Shaky Space Wizard replies, “Both. It’s irritating you are aware of them at all. I’m, like, from your future….”
This is worldbuilding of an entirely different sort. There’s an almost tactile quality to much of the art – as though you could reach out and touch the various objects in each scene – but the script and the story mechanics are ethereal and otherworldly, flashing forward and bending back, cutting in and out. Incredibly, it nonetheless feels grounded. Whether or not the story actually takes place on a distant space station or in the recesses Sherwood Breadcoat’s tangled brain, it springs from a place a psychological authenticity. This is the world as Breadcoat experiences it. This is his reality. This is his truth. As a scrawled note on the second page warns us, “Get fucking ready.”
Final Verdict: 8.3 – Nonlinear yet highly immersive, “Proxima Centauri” #2 is a vivid, swirling, unpredictable experience from beginning to end.
