This horror adaptation from Self Made Hero is icy, elegant, and quite weird. Those familiar with I.N.J. Culbard’s previous adaptations won’t find that surprising; his approach is restrained but versatile, excavating the source material and coming up with strange artifacts.
Written by Robert W. Chambers
Illustrated and adapted by I.N.J. Culbard
The supernatural stories that make up Robert W. Chambers’s classic piece of weird fiction are tied together by a play that brings madness to all who read it: The King in Yellow. It’s a book that draws readers in with an irresistible yet innocent opening act, then drives them insane with the poisonous words of Act 2. An influence on writers from H. P. Lovecraft to Neil Gaiman, The King in Yellow is one of the most important works of American supernatural fiction. In this dangerously unputdownable graphic-novel adaptation, I.N.J. Culbard brings to life a thrilling tale of horror that will make readers laugh and cry and tremble with fright.
I.N.J. Culbard has adapted several of H.P. Lovecraft’s tales, and with “The King in Yellow”, he goes one step further and adapts the work of one of Lovecraft’s forebears. Turn-of-the-century American author Robert W. Chambers got his start in weird fiction, and while his name isn’t as well known as Lovecraft’s, it’s not difficult to see how one built on what the other created.
Chambers’ horror tales aren’t tentacley like Lovecraft’s, but the emphasis on the unknowable and the madness it inspires is definitely there. The weirdest – and best – short stories in the original text of The King in Yellow typically feature artists losing their minds, often in connection to the mysterious titular figure.
In this volume, I.N.J. Culbard adapts four of these weirder stories; namely, “The Repairer of Reputations”, “The Mask”, “The Yellow Sign”, and “In the Court of the Dragon”.
The stories are interconnected and all play off the same themes, but “The Repairer of Repuations”, the first in the collection, is arguably the most complex story and the most difficult to adapt. Centring on a man who suffers delusions after a head injury, the story can be read on multiple levels. It makes for a challenging introduction to the collection, and hangs together best after reading the later stories.
Visually, Culbard establishes a world of muted colours and lightly caricatured figures. The pale, ghoulish, staring face is a motif that appears here on the main character, and is repeated in the later stories to alarming effect. But the most striking (and most recognizably Culbard) aspect of the art is the tendency toward large, slightly lumpy heads. So far as stylistic choices go, it’s pretty useful; it acts as a kind of iconography, emphasizing difference and keeping the characters individual despite their similar dress and unifying colour scheme.
A distinct lack of visual spectacle makes itself felt at this early point. These stories, for the most part, take place indoors, where the characters have intense conversations; and if you don’t count these, there are only a few brief moments of action. Of course, all of this is down to the source material; but Culbard’s big heads play into this aspect beautifully, keeping the emphasis squarely on the emoting faces.
“The Mask” has a more straightforward bait-and-switch structure, and for this reason it’s the story that stands best on its own. Not that it necessarily should – the King in Yellow as a recurring theme that haunts all the characters is a fundamental one, and with every appearance the motif becomes weightier and scarier. The progression runs from the title of a banned play, all the way up to the name of an omnipotent being, and tracking this progression is one of the principle pleasures of the collection.
Like the structure, the imagery here is accessible. Culbard renders the marble figures that, well, figure in the story with a sculptor’s grace, and while the reveal as the end isn’t as punchy as it could be, the fluid layouts throughout make for smooth storytelling.
“The Yellow Sign” isn’t a very satisfying tale simply because the source story doesn’t have a tight plot; it deals with the banned play and the titular object, and how they keep appearing in the lives of an artist and the model he paints. It’s got a gross-out reveal that Culbard doesn’t lean into very hard – which might be a mercy.
Continued below“In the Court of the Dragon” is adapted so that it builds on “The Yellow Sign”, in addition to tying together all three of the previous stories in a satisfying but not overly tidy fashion. This is a neat move on Culbard’s part, and it lends the previous story a touch more resonance.
Essentially, the artist from “The Yellow Sign” is driven mad by the discordant notes of an organ, and led by yet another ghoulish figure to his doom. All of this happens with little dialogue, and big, brash musical notes dominating several panels. It’s all capped off by the most visually spectacular moment in the collection, set down with bright, bleeding colours.
Given what’s come before – that is, a whole lotta weird, elegantly rendered – this is about as fitting a conclusion as you could ask for. And if you stand back and squint, the collection as a whole feels unified in intention and mood. The esotericism of Chambers’ narrative was always going to make it a bumpy ride in terms of plot, but Culbard’s coherent aesthetic and economical storytelling frame the weirdness beautifully.
If you’re a fan of Lovecraft and interested in the works that inspired him, you’d do well to read Chambers’ stories in their original form before checking out this collection, if only because the stories are selected and compressed here. But Culbard fans will find this rewarding with or without prior reading; his layouts and characterizations are on point, his adaptation adept.
So far as recent horror adaptations go, “The King in Yellow” feels like a deep cut; but it’s got its charms and horrors, and will add a little weird to your weekend.
