Berger Books have been producing some killer books with creative hooks since their inception, and “She Could Fly” is no exception. A voyeuristic look at the unknown, this book deals with a regular human being with problems of their own trying to cope with the existence of a superhuman being. Can Christopher Cantwell, Martin Morazzo, Miroslav Mrva and Clem Robins turn this extraordinary concept into an even better book?
Written by Christopher Cantwell
Illustrated by Martin Morazzo
Colored by Miroslav Mrva
Lettered by Clem RobinsIn Chicago, an unknown woman appears flying at speeds of 120 miles per hour and at heights reaching 2,000 feet. Then she suddenly dies in a fiery explosion mid-air. No one knows who she was, how she flew, or why. Luna, a disturbed 15-year-old girl becomes obsessed with learning everything about her while rumors and conspiracy theories roil. Will cracking the secrets of the Flying Woman’s inner life lead to the liberation from her own troubled mind?
I have to credit Cantwell in his intriguing depiction of a teenager suffering from extreme self-doubt and anxiety. Luna is the main focal point of this story, and aspects of her personality feel relatable and thoroughly human. Her anxiety about coping with new situations is cleverly told through hypotheticals of the worst possible outcome of a situation. When Luna’s mother gives her a cactus to take care of, Luna sees herself eating it and proceeding to leap at her mother before ripping her eyes out. Yet the aspect that grounds what could be seen as an absurd situation is an internal voice in Luna of self-doubt, appearing in boxes through the panels saying things like “YOU ARE EVIL AND WORTHLESS”. It’s haunting yet gives reasoning as to why Luna does such things. It’s not necessarily that she hears voices, rather that she hears her own voice that reminds her of her own flaws. It’s tactful and clever and gives us an amazing insight into Luna’s character without much monologue or narration.
It’s interesting to see how the structure of this issue revolves around the flying woman. Cantwell tells us next to nothing about her – in fact, the only things we know include her flying ability and her unfortunate demise. Yet she’s the catalyst for every storyline in the comic. We see that Luna is placid and comfortable when she thinks about being with the flying woman because it makes her believe that there is a potential future out there where she can do the same. We see that she loses all hope of that potential even before the woman’s death is televised when she sees her ‘guidance counselor’ collapse into despair over her cat’s death. And then we see how the ‘fat physicist’ plays into the mystery at the end of the book by having associated parties reveal that he may be involved in the creation of the flying woman. It’s a clever plot device used to convey inspiration, dread and association between the characters of a series, serving as a connecting link all characters.
A lot of credit for the successes of this issue has to go to artist Martin Morazzo. The tone of his work has a cartoonish hyperreality quality to it. People that he draw are ordinary, awkward and believable, and the lines are simple enough to convey an emotion that has a very realistic and genuine feel to it. When Luna talks to her Counselor and she asks if Luna is looking forward to getting her license this year, Luna lives all the dangerous incidents that occur while driving. The emotion conveyed in the successive panel of her saying “CAN’T WAIT” is a great mixture of tension and forced positivity that tells so much without having to rely on clever wording. Panels aren’t overstuffed with content, either, but the scenes feel lived in and authentic. The Counselor’s office is tidy and clean, but has posters in the background saying “YOU MATTER” and “TRUST”. In Luna’s home, the house is relatively tidy, but her parents’ usage of tray tables in front of the TV and the general decor of the home gives the impression that this family is a little slack and dated in their parenting. It’s clean line penciling that uses subtle imagery rather than over-the-top stuffed panels to convey a tone and feeling in the reader.
Continued belowMorazzo handles pacing during decompressed and lightning-fast sequences superbly to complement the banal every day. It occurs mostly whenever Luna has an anxiety vision of her future, giving the idea that this is a false reality without the usual indicators like a blurred vision or different panel border. The first one occurs when the Counselor mentions Luna getting her license. The pace prior to this was back and forth and everyday feeling, but as soon as Luna considers these potentials, the pace speeds right up like an intense anxiety attack, with Morazzo jumping from scene to scene conveying the worst possible outcomes in a driving situation. To contrast, however, when Luna receives the cactus from her mother, the pacing slows right down, decompressed to the point of faux-slow motion. We see three separate panels of Luna weighing up the cactus before taking an excruciating and bloody bite into the succulent. It’s moments of hyperrealism that work well at conveying the idea that these are essentially fantasy scenarios but without adding unnecessary visual details to distract from the moment.
The coloring in this books is the one thing I’m a little split down the middle on. Clem Robins does a fine job on the book in general. The coloring has a pastel-like tone to it, tonally defining the book as ordinary and suburban. The use of browns and blues in Luna’s household makes it feel super ordinary, still with the warmth of a family home but giving it an almost dated feel. However, the shading feels inconsistent at times, leading to some visual clashes. The lighting in a lot of scenes works like a spotlight, always having a definite circular area where the colors go darker. It works more in scenes like Luna’s home where the only visible light source is the TV, but in closeup scenes like when Luna is asked about her license, it doesn’t make sense as the room appears like it should be lit by natural light. The shading close-up also moves between looking rubbery and solid or looking soft and fuzzy. It gives an inhuman quality to the characters at times, making them feel less believable than they should.
“She Could Fly” #1 feels like one of the best takes on the superhero genre in some time, taking the “Astro City” route of using the superhero as a backdrop, but not the central focus of the genre. Cantwell does some fantastic character building and structuring, while Morazzo handles pacing and emotion superbly. Robins’ coloring can be a little inconsistent but doesn’t stop the book from feeling like one of the most original and interesting debuts of late.
Final Score: 8.8 – “She Could Fly” #1 handles believeable and flawed characters and emotional and well-paced sequences seamlessly, resulting in a wholly original take on the superhero genre.
