A decade ago, Cthulhu was definitely a cult figure – and by that I mean he was part of underground culture, and not that he had an actual cult around him (but then, you never know). In any case, if you mentioned H.P. Lovecraft to the right person you’d get to have an enthusiastic nerd-out about how weird and under-appreciated he is. Now, for better or for worse, all things R’lyeh have undergone a revival, and the result has been a preponderance of tentacled titles, whether they be novels, films, or board games.
Joining these ranks is Ben Templesmith’s “The Squidder”, a four-issue miniseries from IDW. And while Cthulhu-worship in pop culture may have peaked, this title explores some angles that tend to be ignored when most get their Lovecraft on. For one, there are few cephalopods to be found as we set about the meat of the story.
Written and illustrated by Ben Templesmith
This all-new four-issue series finds an old soldier from a forgotten war in a post-apocalyptic world that has left him behind. He was one of the last of the legendary Squidder Legions.
Can a discarded relic with a death wish and a rebellious Squid priestess overthrow humanity’s tentacled alien overlords? Ben Templesmith returns to his roots to finally do the tentacle/Cthulhu-orientated book he’s always promised!
The Squidder mixes action, horror, science fiction, and fantasy elements with a touch of Squidly destruction.
Ben Templesmith is kind of an elusive guy. His leaving “Ten Grand” was certainly a disappointment, so it’s heartening to see his work again, albeit in a limited series. (Funded by Kickstarter, the project was initially released as a graphic novel; now we’re getting it in single issues.) It’s hard to deny the mythic-chaotic appeal of the guy’s art, so the choice of subject is rather exciting; but here we also have the opportunity to check out Templesmith’s writing work, and on all counts, it’s pretty solid.
We start off with Mr. Hitchins, a rather familiar hardboiled figure. What with the terse first-person narration and gritted-teeth grimaces, he could have stepped right out of “Ten Grand”. In any case, he’s a guy with capital-T Troubles, the least among them being a price on his head. To risk sounding like a movie trailer announcer, in a world where squid-worship has become commonplace, the monster-slayer is now the monster. Everywhere this guy goes, he’s confronting a reality he doesn’t believe; and so the exposition seems to come naturally. Often I find it hard to rationalize, in first-person-narrated stories, why the main character would have this over-explanatory monologue running through his head. Here it makes sense; he’s dealing with a world gone crazy, and needs to re-establish his own reality with every turn of events.
Effective as it is, the narration is rather spare; and what with the elliptical dialogue, there’s plenty of room for Templesmith’s art to bowl us over. Setting out weathered, hypocritical faces that speak volumes of their own, the focus is very much on the inhabitants of this terrifying new world, rather than those they seem to obey. These we only get a glimpse of in the introductory section; and even then, they merge with the background, forming part of that hallucinatory mishmash that Templesmith evokes so wonderfully. If anything gives us a scare over the course of this issue, it’s those who want Hitchins dead, not the otherworldly beings themselves.
The overall look of the issue is appropriately murky, with the occasional spatter of ink dirtying up the composition of a panel. Matters occasionally clear up, yielding bits of scene-setting detail; a glimpse of a town that’s seen better days tells us all we need to know about the place. Meanwhile, Templesmith’s palette choices are on the saturated side, melding with watercolour textures and lending each scene a distinct flavour. An abrupt shift in colour scheme makes for the most memorable moment of the issue; a turn of the page that takes us from damp field to swirling inferno.
The issue ends on more of a nihilistic note than a cliffhanger. A guy’s gotta work, after all, and Hitchins winds up taking a case that goes directly against his interests. He becomes involved in this particular situation not because he has to, per se, but because there isn’t much else to do. And while that might not sound like the most compelling note to end on, you don’t miss the music-swells-fade-to-black-moment. If this is going to be a dark and nihilistic story, best to get that idea across early, especially in a short work. And if our hero feels empty of motivation, well, maybe he is; but he’s so different from everybody in his surroundings that you know a hefty dose of conflict is going to turn up soon enough.
It’s not quite a noir comic, and it’s not quite a tale of Cthulhu; I’m not even sure you could call it “supernatural noir”, since so much emphasis is placed on the human element. But whatever you want to call it, “The Squidder” definitely impresses. Fans of Ben Templesmith’s work will find the art as eye-blistering as ever; fans of Lovecraft’s work will find this angle on the material refreshing. Tough-guy comics are a dime a dozen, but there’s enough story-level complexity and visual appeal in this one to warrant a minor cult of its own.
Final Verdict: 8.5 – That is not dead which can eternal lie; the Cthulhu mythos is alive and well in Templesmith’s work.
