I don’t even have one of my signature witty openers. “The Creep” is just an example of great comics work. Go and buy it — but if you want more info, I guess I can write a review for you.
Written by John Arcudi
Illustrated by Jonathan CaseThe case that Oxel couldn’t give up on has sucked him in deeper as he looks for answers. But why? Not for money, not even for curiosity, so why? What sins can he hope to uncover–or wash away?
John Arcudi has a great ear for dialogue. No matter whether he is writing a low-level mystery book like “The Creep” or large scale supernatural horror like “B.P.R.D.,” his choice of words both keep his readers at attention and draw them into his characters. He tries his damndest to make his dialogue ominous when it needs to be, especially in this rather dark issue, but it is never at the expense of sounding natural — which is what helps us identify with his well-sculpted characters. That’s the thing, though; in fiction, “natural” dialogue isn’t quite natural at all. Some writers try to truly capture the human voice, including all the “umm”s, “ahh”s, and other repetitions that we otherwise tune out. When it works, it’s great (See: Brian Michael Bendis on a good day). When it doesn’t, it’s a trainwreck (See: Brian Michael Bendis an an off day). Arcudi knows that “realistic” dialogue often isn’t realistic at all, and cuts the crap, as it were. Is “The Creep” clearly scripted, rather than an audio transcription? Of course. Can you tell while reading it? Not at all. The words that Arcudi’s characters speak reflect what makes them human, and that’s what makes it seem so real. The dialogue might seem a bit polished when looking at it from a critical perspective, but the way that each sentence evokes a specific personality makes it more believable than reality.
With one issue left after this one, “The Creep” #2 is where Arcudi kicks up the tension by a few notches. The issue is framed by two dream-like sequences: the first is a bit more vague, not definitely stating whether it is a flashback or not; the second, though, brings the opening panels into perspective, and leaves the reader wondering how these visions will tie into the mystery at hand — a perfect way to end a penultimate issue. In between these sequences, we have the classic detective fiction rising action, the moment where a newly discovered piece of evidence clicks in the detective’s head. Arcudi doesn’t show his hand early, though; the evidence in question doesn’t solve the case, but points in a possible direction. After all, if the mystery was solved, would it really be worth an additional $3.50 just to watch the supposed wrong-doer get caught? And even then, the direction we are pointed in proves to be difficult, due to a last minute complication. This is where we should be left in a penultimate issue for a mystery: we have an idea, albeit a fuzzy one, of where we’re going, but no idea how we’ll get there. In a short miniseries like this, this is how you make sure people remember to pick up your final issue, making sure the plotting is tight on both a large and a small scale.
The art of this miniseries is by Jonathan Case, who you might know from Dark Horse’s Green River Killer from last year. I missed this OGN when it came back, but after reading this I’m going to try to nab a copy from him at NYCC this week. Everything that makes a great comics artist is present in his art, but his sense of character is perhaps his finest talent. His facial expressions carry so much life, but Case understands that expression is not limited to the face — body language is also key. The flashback to our protagonist’s previous job is a great example of this: we don’t just see the years pass in the character’s condition, but in the way he holds himself. We see the weight of years, stress, and pain slowly pull him down, and it is, quite frankly, beautiful, in a tragic way. On top of that, Case is a master of framing. His panels are never just talking heads or other views that we’ve seen a billion times. Every panel is angled in a way that catches our interest, or flows into the next one, and often both. This is sequential storytelling at its finest — Case doesn’t need twisting and disorienting layouts to stand out as a man of immense talent.
John Arcudi is great at both dialogue and plotting. With those talents, you could make the most plain story interesting. “The Creep” is anything but plain, though. Arcudi has harnessed the ambiguities and discomfort of the real world to make a mystery that plays with our own preconceived notions toward people to leave us on shaky ground, and Jonathan Case turns Arcudi’s story into the most well-illustrated miniseries of this year. Due to the series brevity — four issues, counting the #0 — I understand if you have missed it and think you will just pick it up in trade. If that’s your thought, though, you better carry through with that thought, or we are going to have serious words.
Final Verdict: 9.5 – Buy it!
