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Matt
Fraction and Gabriel Bá,
Casanova (Image, 2006- )
$1.99, monthly.
By
Geoff Klock |
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Casanova
is written by Matt Fraction and drawn by Gabriel Bá.
It is a book in the
Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.
mode, sci-fi meets James Bond. At the time of this
writing, only five issues have been published. Each
is done in only three colours: black, white and sage
green. Each issue has sixteen pages of story, with no
advertisements, followed by five pages of
“DVD-extra”-style notes in a loose essay format. Each
issue, after the first, uses the inside cover for a
helpful “Previously in
Casanova”
section. The covers are stylish and simple; the back
cover gives a preview of next month’s cover. The
first four issues were so much fun to read I fell
down on my knees and denounced God.
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Casanova
is the greatest comic book I have ever read. Once all my
critical faculties recover from the punch I received from
the first issue, I am sure it will find a reasonable place
in the best twenty books I have ever read, but for now,
that first impression is not to be
ignored.
Grant
Morrison is my favourite comic book writer, one of the best
living writers alongside Aaron Sorkin (West
Wing
seasons one through four), John Darnelle (of the
band
The Mountain Goats),
and the poet John Ashbery (Self-Portrait
in a Convex Mirror).
Matt Fraction out Grant Morrisons Grant Morrison, which I
would not have thought possible. This is an important
function, since Morrison seems to have used his
recent
Seven Soldiers
project to transition from the most fun kind of unbridled
insanity to a more mature and straightforward storytelling.
Morrison’s new outlook has generated grand and dazzling
perfection in
All Star Superman
and
WE3
but something quite boring (at least so far) in
Batman
and
52
(which he co-writes). Matt Fraction taps into the Grant
Morrison of
Doom Patrol, Flex Mentallo,
and
Seaguy,
and – in a stunning turn of events I am at a loss to
account for – manages to emerge with a voice and direction
all his own. Here is issue four’s “previously in Casanova”
to give you an idea:
Casanova
Quinn, a bad egg blackmailed by a badder egg into betraying
his own father and the international law enforcement agency
E.M.P.I.R.E., has gone great guns into his exciting new
career as a superspy. That badder egg is named Newman Xeno,
and he runs E.M.P.I.R.E.’s opposite number, a supermafia
called W.A.S.T.E. Cass’ taskmaster at W.A.S.T.E. is his own
twin sister Zephyr. It’s tricky.
“Badder
egg”, “opposite number”, “great guns”, “supermafia.” Who
spends this much time crafting the “previously in” box for
the inside cover? It’s the “its tricky” that makes it art,
at least in part because of the understatement: the summary
of the book’s concept fails to mention that the Casanova
Quinn that appears in the book was hijacked by Xeno from an
alternate dimension. In Xeno’s world Casanova Quinn was a
hero (now dead); the hijacked Casanova is a scoundrel.
Essentially we meet the evil twin first, and that evil twin
– normally a throwaway character in the genre – is
installed as our main character.
Four
moments to give you an impression of why this book is so
strong.
One.
The wild imagination of this page – from the direct address
talking heads to the elevation of a schoolyard game to
major psychic warfare – speaks for itself.
Two. On the first page of the first issue Casanova breaks
into a room and a song is playing (the lyrics are in word
bubbles). A footnote lets us know that the song is “‘Déjà
Vu,’ by Teen Age Music International, ‘I.M.A.T.A.M.I’, Soma
Records.” Once Xeno installs this Casanova in Xeno’s
parallel universe, he gets to return to this moment, to
play out again the adventure that began in this room. Until
Casanova diverges from what he did the first time, the art
is reprinted almost exactly. The footnote – hilariously
about a song called “Déjà Vu” – is also repeated. The
depiction of parallel universes is common; parallel
faux-editorial scholarship is outstanding, silly and
audacious, all at the same time.
Three.
The second issue includes a major fight scene between the
two male leads; they fight naked, and Bá does not shy away
from drawing their penises. (As Fraction puts it, he likes
the fight because it “embraces all the homoerotic clichés
of scenes like this, be they in superhero comics or spy
movies”). The captions push pulp prose into camp
commentary: “HOLY SHIT! As Água Pesada burns, it’s psychic
combat at dawn for Casanova Quinn and Wilson Heath –
Because the Genre Demands It!”
Four. In issue four Casanova is hired by E.M.P.I.R.E. to
kidnap a guy named David X – “Like early Bowie times
Houdini times Acconci minus the Situationism.” David X has
decided, as his next bit of performance art, to achieve
double nirvana. His twelve year meditation is almost up and
E.M.P.I.R.E. wants to stop it; Casanova is sent,
essentially, to kidnap God. Casanova breaks into the
facility and is reaching for David X just as David X
awakens. Gabriel Bá captures the perfect clarity of
meditation by placing the letters H, A, N, and D – without
caption boxes – in the bottoms of the panels showing
David’s opening eye. A hand is reaching for him. H A N
D. Simplicity itself makes the insanity work.
The concept, the details, the writing, the art, the design,
the characters, the imagination:
Casanova
is un-fucking believable. If you can’t get into this, kill
yourself now, because ain’t nothing good comin' your
way.