“Vanity” #1

Bring on the blood! “Vanity” #1 promises a dark, aesthetically driven history of the Countess of Bathory, a somewhat obscure regent from the Kingdom of Hungary during the late 16th and early 17th centuries. This was a time of upheaval, political subterfuge, enlightenment, and religious turmoil. Elizabeth of Bathory would probably have faded into the tapestry of this whirlwind time if not for the fact that she, along with some loyal henchmen, kinda murdered maybe hundreds of virgin women, bathing in their blood to preserve her youth. In this way, Elizabeth lies at the confluence of so many contemporary cultural wellsprings: true crime, vampires/horror as a whole, gothic literature, feminism, and so on. Deciding what cultural touchstones to work with is an interesting problem, and Kirnev and the team do an admirable job creating something sleek, readable, and exciting out of the source material. Let’s light our torch and wander the castle grounds, taking a peak at what “Vanity” #1 has to offer.

Cover by Joseph Schmalke

Written by Jurii Kirnev
Illustrated by Natalia Tsarevnikova
Lettered by Joel Rodriguez
Reviewed by Kobi Bordoley

Every great legend has a beginning and horror stories are no different. However, our tale-as it is based on a true story-begins at the very end. The legendary Blood Countess Elizabeth Bathory is dead, and gravediggers are assigned to relocate her corpse. But who was she really? Was she a monster or a victim? Here we witness Elizabeth’s birth and childhood, and see the earliest moments of her life through her eyes. This includes her first encounter with death and blood that awakens the beasts that lurk in her innocent, yet twisted mind. With an introduction by Vampire: The Masquerade’s Mark Rein-Hagen

“Vanity” #1 is pretty top heavy, and starts with a beefy introduction by Mark Rein-Hagan, the creator of Vampire: The Masquerade. On its face this is pretty cool. We love hearty and enthusiastic comic book intros. It’s the hype before the storm, the feverishly read paragraphs of praise before getting to the red meat. Rein-Hagan’s intro, however, is a bit repetitive, and goes on for too long. Our recommendation is to skim it for the useful biographical info on Elizabeth that sets the stage for what you’re about to read, but the other notes on legend vs. reality are pretty run of the mill. It’s fun and indulgent, but don’t feel guilty for skipping ahead to the story itself once you get a cursory introduction.

Okay, it feels a little unfair to harp on the intro when none of the above listed creators had a hand in that, so we’ll move on, we promise! Unfortunately, the first few pages of the actual “Vanity” #1 comic are its weakest. Visually it’s great (we’ll comment on the art a little bit later), but narratively it’s a bit overwrought and plodding. We see a few peasants dropping off a nondescript coffin into a similarly vague outskirts town, one of the gravediggers telling the other in hushed tones that the coffin carries the body of a wretched soul. This is a cool setup, don’t get us a wrong. But then we get a few pages of Peasant #1 saying “You don’t know who’s in the coffin?!” and Peasant #2 going, “No! Tell me!” That bit goes on for way too long. and is tedious.

But then things really pick up. Remember, this is from Scout’s Black Caravan imprint, which means creepy, shutter-worthy horror. In this way, “Vanity” #1 delivers. Because the introduction gives us a good idea of where this story is going (abject violence, blood bathing, serial killing, etc), we get to savor the unsettling journey from Point A to Point B. As such, we get a bunch of scenes where Elizabeth learns the rules of royal ladylike etiquette, full of piety and obsequiousness. She rubs against them, revealing the relatable apostate and nascent feminist that resonates with us, the modern day reader. But then we get the second feeling of fear, fear that we feel close to the villain, that these contemporary virtues are perhaps ill-omens of things to come. What can we say, the trope of a creepy child is just really effective. Narratively, this is where “Vanity” #1 shines the most. We see the first decade or so of Elizabeth’s life at quick but not breakneck speed, each vignette showing us a little more of her psyche as she circles the drain of the dark fate we’re sure to witness in coming issues. Chilling!

Interspersed in all of this are historical expositions that tell us, the readers, that Kirnev and the team have done their homework, and that this telling is more accurate than others. We get Hungarian spellings, long conversations about dowries and politics, and all that jazz. We commend them for the diligence, but can’t help but wonder if the myth of the story is a little more interesting than the historicity of it — “Vanity” #1 would feel even sleeker than it does by the 1/3 mark if it cut some of that content, but we’ll reserve total judgement until a few more issues in.

Tsarevnikova does a wonderful job on illustration, and from an aesthetic perspective “Vanity” #1 is pretty much a slam dunk. Panels are dark and fully saturated, which gives off an illuminated manuscript sort of vibe that’s gothic without falling into the majesty or picturesqueness of some fantasy titles. Dread looms throughout “Vanity” #1, and the art mirrors that. There’s a particularly strong scene in the rose garden where the black of the day frames the red of the roses in a blocky, delicious way. There’s another great scene where Elizabeth enters a bath of clear water and christens it with the blood of her first period (clever foreshadowing of the whole bathing in virgin blood thing, by the way) that’s exquisitely drawn. Elizabeth’s drawn in the scene as demure yet sexual, coy yet cloying, the kind of things you’d expect from a teenager going through the awkwardness of puberty. She sees a vision of a terrible, powerful bird-woman that just kicks ass, and fully warrants the full page spread it gets. We’re serious, the art in “Vanity” #1 makes up for any narrative hiccups. Subtle perversion abounds, and we’d be remiss to leave out a scene that’s drawn upside down and from the POV of a person looking down at the floor. It’s hard to describe, but all you need to know is that it’s a strong use of perspective and angles to create unfamiliarity out of the familiar.

While it has its bumps in the night, “Vanity” #1 overall delivers. The art is wonderful and on theme, the story follows a gruesome and unforgettable story, and the minor pacing hiccups will hopefully get evened out in upcoming issues. Don’t let the awkward framing story at the start of this one slow you down, what’s inside is worth it.

Final Verdict: 7.9. A Powerful and plaintive telling of one of horror’s archetypical femme fatales