Comics
[Comic Book Review] “Roche Limit” #1 Is Astounding
Space noir, noir in space. What more could you ever want?
WRITTEN BY: Michael Moreci
ART BY: Vic Malhotra
PUBLISHER: Image Comics
PRICE: $2.99
RELEASE: September 24, 2014
Reviewed By: Torin Chambers
Roche Limit is a crime noir set in, you guessed it, space. In space and in a manmade colony (The Roche Limit Colony) within the planet Dispater, on the edge of an energy anomaly in the Andromeda Galaxy. This anomaly was spotted from Earth and has some very strange properties. It operates like a black hole but with none of the immense gravitational effects of gravity. This has led humanity to set up the colony on Dispater because of its proximity. None of the wonders of this anomaly play into anything directly in this first issue, but I can see it gradually unfolding its secrets to us.
The Roche Limit Colony has an absolutely magnificent ‘Blade Runner’ feel about it. Even in this first issue the colony comes alive with numerous varied locals. It’s got cramped and noisy places, walls that are riddled with rivets from countless repairs and covered in a thick grime. It’s also got spacious apartments, ritzy high end clubs and notably seedy bars. The Roche Limit Colony is a character in and of itself, teeming with personality and interest.
Two paragraphs in and I suppose I should briefly touch on our protagonists. We’re first introduced to Sonya Torin (her last name is my first name, that’s super neat to me and no one else) a hard as nails woman looking for her sister Bekkah. Besides her justifiably anger over her sister and a past as a cop, we only get ever-so-tiny peaks at who Sonya really is. For now she comes off as pretty flat and uninteresting but with the promise of future development.
On the very next page we meet the unquestionably dubious but also infinitely cool Alex Ford. Alex Ford is a young Harrison Ford, there no other way about it. He’s a smart-assed, cocky son of a bitch who seems to be on everyone’s bad-side. Finding a sense of comradery or compassion or possibly an angle he could work in his favor, Alex steps in and helps Sonya out. He lost an older brother in the past and her plight has “triggered” something in him that make him want to help her.
“Roche Limit” is an astounding introduction to a rich and intricate world. It’s not perfect, but it’s got heart. The only real stumble is with the characterization of Sonya, who as of this first issue I couldn’t care less about. Especially when compared to Alex Ford she might as well have been a cardboard cutout. I can only hope she’s fleshed out in the coming issues. Roche Limit has got all of its building blocks spread out on the table now, I have nothing but the utmost confidence that Michael Moreci will build greatness.
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Torin Chambers is a rad dude from the nineties who does film stuff or something. Thomas the Tank Engine is his favorite transformer. Find him on Twitter @TorinsChambers
Comics
[Review] Graphic Novel ‘Tender’ Is Brilliant Feminist Body Horror That Will Make You Squirm & Scream
Beth Hetland’s debut graphic novel, ‘Tender,’ is a modern tale of love, validation, and self-destruction by way of brutal body horror with a feminist edge.
“I’ve wanted this more than anything.”
Men so often dominate the body horror subgenre, which makes it so rare and insightful whenever women tackle this space. This makes Beth Hetland’s Tender such a refreshing change of pace. It’s earnest, honest, and impossibly exposed. Tender takes the body horror subgenre and brilliantly and subversively mixes it together with a narrative that’s steeped in the societal expectations that women face on a daily basis, whether it comes to empowerment, family, or sexuality. It single-handedly beats other 2023 and ‘24 feminine horror texts like American Horror Story: Delicate, Sick, Lisa Frankenstein, and Immaculate at their own game.
Hetland’s Tender is American Psycho meets Rosemary’s Baby meets Swallow. It’s also absolutely not for the faint of heart.
Right from the jump, Tender grabs hold of its audience and doesn’t let go. Carolanne’s quest for romantic fulfillment, validation, and a grander purpose is easy to empathize with and an effective framework for this woeful saga. Carolanne’s wounds cut so deep simply because they’re so incredibly commonplace. Everybody wants to feel wanted.
Tender is full of beautiful, gross, expressive artwork that makes the reader squirm in their seat and itch. Hetland’s drawings are simultaneously minimalist and comprehensively layered. They’re reminiscent of Charles Burns’ Black Hole, in the best way possible. There’s consistently inspired and striking use of spot coloring that elevates Hetland’s story whenever it’s incorporated, invading Tender’s muted world.
Hetland employs effective, economical storytelling that makes clever use of panels and scene construction so that Tender can breeze through exposition and get to the story’s gooey, aching heart. There’s an excellent page that depicts Carolanne’s menial domestic tasks where the repetitive panels grow increasingly smaller to illustrate the formulaic rut that her life has become. It’s magical. Tender is full of creative devices like this that further let the reader into Carolanne’s mind without ever getting clunky or explicit on the matter. The graphic novel is bookended with a simple moment that shifts from sweet to suffocating.
Tender gives the audience a proper sense of who Carolanne is right away. Hetland adeptly defines her protagonist so that readers are immediately on her side, praying that she gets her “happily ever after,” and makes it out of this sick story alive…And then they’re rapidly wishing for the opposite and utterly aghast over this chameleon. There’s also some creative experimentation with non-linear storytelling that gets to the root of Carolanne and continually recontextualizes who she is and what she wants out of life so that the audience is kept on guard.
Tender casually transforms from a picture-perfect rom-com, right down to the visual style, into a haunting horror story. There’s such a natural quality to how Tender presents the melancholy manner in which a relationship — and life — can decay. Once the horror elements hit, they hit hard, like a jackhammer, and don’t relent. It’s hard not to wince and grimace through Tender’s terrifying images. They’re reminiscent of the nightmarish dadaist visuals from The Ring’s cursed videotape, distilled to blunt comic panels that the reader is forced to confront and digest, rather than something that simply flickers through their mind and is gone a moment later. Tender makes its audience marinate in its mania and incubates its horror as if it’s a gestating fetus in their womb.
Tender tells a powerful, emotional, disturbing story, but its secret weapon may be its sublime pacing. Hetland paces Tender in such an exceptional manner, so that it takes its time, sneaks up on the reader, and gets under their skin until they’re dreading where the story will go next. Tender pushes the audience right up to the edge so that they’re practically begging that Carolanne won’t do the things that she does, yet the other shoe always drops in the most devastating manner. Audiences will read Tender with clenched fists that make it a struggle to turn each page, although they won’t be able to stop. Tender isn’t a short story, at more than 160 pages, but readers will want to take their time and relish each page so that this macabre story lasts for as long as possible before it cascades to its tragic conclusion.
Tender is an accomplished and uncomfortable debut graphic novel from Hetland that reveals a strong, unflinching voice that’s the perfect fit for horror. Tender indulges in heightened flights of fancy and toes the line with the supernatural. However, Tender is so successful at what it does because it’s so grounded in reality and presents a horror story that’s all too common in society. It’s a heartbreaking meditation on loneliness and codependency that’s one of 2024’s must-read horror graphic novels.
‘Tender,’ by Beth Hetland and published by Fantagraphics, is now available.
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