It is possible that someone who cut his teeth on the comic action is able to recycle as a playwright in the round?
can do. But it is said that the search for a more literary weight ports to force more fat.
In Europe, where the comic strip is home to the 60's, some change of pace did not result in particular suffering to readers: There is no fan of Moebius, Pratt Mattotti or who has had a well 'in front of adventures that year after year were becoming more limited, more and more essential, more and more metaphysical. Another is the case of the United States, where the balloon problem has exploded with Art Spiegelman, Crumb and that Bode and Shelton were too sui generis and too genuinely lysergic ambitions for living. Those parts, a past mainstream generates the same feelings of guilt of a crap sauce on his tie. So, no evolution, just removal. So
David Mazzucchelli, past the spectacular hard-boiled expressionism abstract expressionism of mating with Miller Asterios Polyp. So also the Canadian
Stuart Immonen, who teamed with his wife Kathryn gave up a career as a journeyman in the honest superomismo in tights groped for the hit graphic novel of the hunchback with an upbeat Moving Pictures (Nicola Pesce Editore, 14 € and 90). A play comic book set in Paris occupied by the Nazis, all played in claustrophobic spaces, dialogues and a montage that alternates alternating simple past tense and stirring the vices of a private art expert forced into a typical liaison victim / perpetrator with a nazi with those of public Endlösung . The game works in the time and place of the interrogation which is like a thread through a narrative deliberately allusive, nonlinear lyrics and flow patterns intersect pile up as the currents of an underground river, always the same and always different and hats off to the spouses Immonen to the infinite variations on the theme of talking to him. The attention to detail, however, do punch him with the stated ambition to inscribe the case histories of the protagonists in the history capitalized: thus, despite the icy formal elegance, the various tributaries of the drama are struggling to join the stream of a slow and solemn melodrama with controcazzi.
With a more pointed and rigorous editing, could leave a little gem.
So, do not you go over a golden mediocritas justified by the unusual cut of the story and meticulous work by a child, perhaps, the guilt of the authors. What else? Not all succeed with the hole covered. Not even the Top Shelf.
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