Page 1

May 11, 2011

Okay, it’s late and I seriously need to get some shut-eye so I’m afraid this will have to be quick.

What’s good: I’ve finished my first page and it doesn’t look half bad if I do say so myself. True I could have been more adventurous with the scene’s lighting and colours but I felt it wouldn’t hurt to go for something simple and clear in the opening panels as I find my feet. I went for a scheme of warm brown-oranges playing off cold blue-greys as representation of the clash embodied by Scratch herself – namely between human and machine – while I also deviated from my page plan adding an additional panel (the ear) to make it clearer that the voice is from a coms device, not her.

What’s bad: It took far longer than it should have. I have the excuse of spending time on the cover and having some fairly malignant formatting issues but the bottom line is that I need to be much faster in future if I want to stay on schedule :(



All Systems Go!

May 7, 2011

Having run the latest by my tutor earlier this week, as I had hoped he agreed with my decision to enter production and start drawing the actual pages! I’m still testing the waters so to speak; gauging what sort of rate I can realistically work at in relation to the graphic’s final length, but otherwise it looks like production is definitely go.

One thing I have changed my mind on however is holding off on page uploads. Previously I had been printing off all concept work to run by my tutor, the problem now being that with every graphic page being in colour and  liable to see alterations according to criticism I would end up burning through a fortune in coloured ink cartridges. A fortune –  it goes without saying – which I do not have. Alternatively, uploading the pages to my blog allows me to maintain a work flow similar to that of the planning stage while making the images accessible just about anywhere without the need for costly printing.

It also means that anyone following this blog online can read the graphic online as it’s made, offering additional interest and criticism; which to my mind is no bad thing :) As you may have noticed there’s a new ‘Read it!’ tab on the toolbar where I will be collecting the pages in a similar manner to that of my concept gallery, while I shall also be doing write ups as usual on each as they are uploaded – assessing their strengths and weaknesses.

Anyway, to get things rolling I’ve made a sort of chapter cover for the first act:

I’ll be leaving the main covers until the end of production it seems, but I felt it would be a good idea to punctuate the three ‘acts’ of the story with chapter covers to make it a less unwieldy read. The intention was to have something relatively stark & experimental compared to the actual pages; I played with idea of giving it a subtitle or having more going on but in the end it seemed that something simple gave a stronger impression.

Looking at it, I’d say I was channeling a bit of Frank Miller influence into the stylised silhouette though the circuit patterning is something I thought of following my recent viewing of Serial Experiments Lain’s echoing some of its bizarre symbolic texturing. Essentially I was trying to present a fusion of Noir and cyberpunk aesthetics, while making a nod towards the intended themes regarding cyborgs and the blurred line between human and machine.

It’s not perfect as I still have a dozen insatiable niggles, but hopefully it’s a solid start.


What isn’t remembered never happened: Serial Experiments Lain

May 5, 2011

Serial Experiments Lain is a strange series; take that from a strange man with strange tastes. It’s an experience which is intriguing, disturbing, frustrating and depressing in equal parts but ultimately rewarding providing you can see it through to the end.

It’s true that the cyberpunk is often plundered by anime for its sci-fi aesthetic and dystopian themes, but what sets Lain apart from these neighbours is the thought with which it addresses the genre’s ideas. Rather than using it as a mere dressing for action and entertainment it concerns itself heavily with the underlying technological and social concepts along with a dose of existential philosophy and theology. There’s an almost novelistic feel to its approach reminiscent of something William Gibson might write, never being afraid to challenge the viewer or experiment in ambiguous territory.

At the same time, this makes it so obtuse and idiosyncratic in places that many will be put off by its sheer lack of accessibility; Lain demands your full attention and reflection to make any real sense of it. I still find parts of the story infuriatingly oblique even after a second viewing and yet in spite of this I still find something about it utterly compelling. Like I said: strange.

Based in a world with an alternative take on the internet known as ‘the Wired’ what’s perhaps most startling about this setting is its uncanny resemblance to the network society of today. Aspects of it remain intentionally outlandish, but the base depiction of its pervasive social importance is more relevant today than when series originally aired in 1998. Even the wired enabled phones aren’t too far off our own modern equivalent.

In contrast to this, Lain herself initially has little understanding or interest in “connecting” with others over the wired or in reality for that matter. I’m sure mention of having a 14 year old schoolgirl as a protagonist is likely to provoke eye rolling from certain quarters, but our central character here is somewhat removed from the usual cookie cutter pubescent. Alienated and unresponsive to the point of appearing autistic; Lain’s initially vacuous nature makes her perfect to introduce the details of the setting through while her social ineptitude and distant family quickly draws viewer sympathy. In essence, she has more in common with the anti-hero detective figures of cyberpunk literature than most anime heroines.

The style of the animation is also distinctly offbeat. The character designs are closer to realism than the medium usually offers with a colour palette which is more often restrained to drab browns and greys than colourful alternatives. At the same time an atmosphere of discomfort is nurtured by an overpowering sense of the mundane, while elsewhere surreal little touches hint at something unpleasant lurking beneath this everyday veneer. Shadows are speckled with red blotches perhaps in reference to blood, while the seemingly omnipresent dark cabling of the wired fractures and webs scenery with its humming menace.

The story is kick started when e-mails are sent around Lain’s class allegedly from a girl Chisa who committed suicide just a week before. The rest of her classmates take it to be a distasteful prank however Lain, intrigued by what she’s heard dusts of her neglected Navi (their equivalent to a PC, not a blue cat alien :p) and investigates. Discovering a similar e-mail she questions the departed as to why they died, the ominous reply being that “god is here”.


Throughout the following episodes Lain gradually becomes drawn into a mystery involving a group of hackers known as the ‘Knights’ in worship of this internet god and the ruthless ‘Tachibana Labs’ who are seemingly set on thwarting them. Vague hints at the underlying plot and dark machinations are thrown up in a manner typical of a techno-conspiracy thriller, however far more interesting than this – though ultimately tied to it – is the development of Lain herself.

As she delves deeper into matters her computer skills rapidly develop, visually represented as her outdated Navi is replaced with a top of the line model which in turn is progressively modified; growing from a desktop device to a formidable setup which fills the entire room. Her personality also quickly develops as she becomes bolder and more assertive,  managing to befriend a classmate Alice and beginning to behave more sociably.

All this could be seen as puberty cyberpunk style, but at the same time stranger things accompany it. Rumours filter back to Lain about her appearing in places she’s never been behaving wildly out of character, while her reputation on the wired starts to take on an inexplicably legendary quality she never seems to have earned. Worse still, she is plagued by increasingly nightmarish hallucinations of phantom figures in reality, appearing to originate from the wired itself.

Things come to a head as stories of “the other” Lain suggest she spread scandalous rumours about Alice, while the hallucinations begin to manifest for other people besides herself. It’s also the point at which the series seemingly starts to unravel, buckling under the weight of its own mystery poised to irrepairably fall apart into pretention, when something even stranger happens:

It starts to make sense.

Just as I’d convinced myself the series no longer had any idea where it was going the seemingly unrelated threads mesh together with a coherency which pulled the proverbial rug out from beneath me. The central idea – that ‘god’s’ plan is to break down the barrier between the wired and reality – admittedly pushes credibility even under the banner of ‘cyber-fantasy’ but is presented with such immersive conviction that it’s rendered wholly believable from a dramatic standpoint. It also makes for a worryingly relevant allegory of our current society in which the internet is of increasing importance in day to day life, as Lain herself eerily phrases it: “no matter where you go, everyone’s connected.”

As reality begins to crumble the self appointed ‘god’ finally reveals himself to her as Masami Eiri; a deceased scientist responsible for the wired upgrade causing the bizarre incidents. Formerly believed to have killed himself under a train, he now resides as a consciousness in the wired – a sinister figure of assured control and near unlimited arrogance with the goal of making the world cast off flesh in favour of a supposedly limitless existence over the network.       


More importantly though, light is finally cast on Lain’s role in these events. Isolated once again through the destructive rumours regarding her alter ego, she questions Masami as to who or what she really is, with the response being that she is “software”. Created by him to help implement the breakdown between wired and reality, Lain is a sort of physical embodiment of the process; something which explains the abnormal development of her technical proficiency and initial alienation. We’re never offered a clear-cut explanation as to whether she’s a GM construct, a machine or some form of shared hallucination originating from the wired though it’s a vagueness which I feel actually preserves much of the series’ credibility; keeping the details ambiguous and leaving the viewer to decide, while also making the whole internet god/reshaping reality plot line easier to swallow.

With Masami set on using Lain to implement his plan, he initially tries to coax her into cooperation but failing this resorts to threats and force – Lain’s defence and crushing blow to his networked ego being that his assurance as an omnipotent being is undermined by reliance on ideas and physical hardware created in the real world, which he is now fatally powerless to interact with minus a body. Thus it is that ‘god’ implodes in a startlingly violent puff of logic.

Far from resolving matters though, this climax only serves to create a larger dilemma for our central character as she is effectively left in charge of the wired and by extension (thanks to Masami’s tinkering) reality. Assuming the responsibilities of a god she is offered the chance of reshaping reality to suit her own desires, but ultimately rejects it in order to fix the lives of her friends and family which have been left largely in tatters at this point thanks to bizarre events surrounding the wired – the unfortunate implication being that she herself won’t be remembered and “what isn’t remembered never happened.”


Perhaps more than any other element in the series, the ending is left open to personal interpretation – inevitably garnering a few aggressive internet forums in the process – but my own feeling is that Lain herself is intended as a metaphysical representation of the network society, her different egos paralleling those of the internet: some wise, some unpleasant some insightful and some disturbing. Considered as an embodiment of this, Lain represents the near unlimited potential of the net counterbalanced by the inevitable faults inherited from its creators.

Serial Experiments doesn’t always hit the mark, often being strange for the sake of strangeness but it’s a negligible footnote when the series achieves so much along the way. Comparable with everything from Neuromancer to The Matrix perhaps its greatest triumph is that it maintains such an original voice amongst the genre while quietly worming its way under your skin. Uncompromising and fearlessly unconventional it’s definitely up there with cyberpunk’s finest.     



Entering Production

May 2, 2011

I’m using the entry title tentatively for now as I still need to run everything by my tutor for approval, but it would seem that (as planned) I’m finally ready to begin production on the main graphic.

Truthfully, it’s hard not to feel a little nervous about starting something I’ve been planning and researching for months, but it’s also exciting seeing things start to take shape. Having completed my 2nd draft of the script I’m now confident it’s strong enough for me to begin pencilling rough drafts of the actual pages.

I say ‘rough’ but I’ll admit that I put some extra effort into the example above; it’s doubtful the page plans will remain this detailed, but it seemed important that I set the bar high, so when it inevitably slips further down the line it won’t fall too far. As can  probably be seen this opening page introduces us to Scratch as our central detective figure, highlighting her indifferent attitude while also firmly establishing the premise of a world based around cyborgs and technology within the opening panels. Generally I wanted to keep it simple with minimal speech to efficiently set up the themes and tone of the narrative without being overly complicated.

The plan is to draw up a batch of roughs like this before I start work on the inked and coloured versions, while I’d also like to build up a buffer of those which I am satisfied with before uploading to the net. To make an optimistic estimate; if I get the go ahead then the pages themselves should begin appearing online sometime next month. Fingers crossed…


Your future’s all used up: Touch of Evil

May 1, 2011

Putting aside that Touch of Evil (1958) is a firm favourite of mine within the noir genre, it also makes for another fitting continuation to my roughly chronological progression of subject films. Not only does it seem to follow on from Strangers on a Train (1951) in terms of the genre’s rising focus on character driven narrative but it’s also considered by many to be one of the last examples of film noir’s golden era (expect spoilers). 

Given the respected reputation it possesses today it’s hard to believe the film was a B-movie, but this may also of been what allowed boundaries to pushed; dabbling in even darker subject matter and muddier morality than its predecessors. Orson Welles – who both directed and co-starred in the picture – is said to have predominantly shot at night to minimise studio interference, only to have the film forcibly recut by Universal against his wishes. All in all, there’s a lot of confusion regarding the different versions (of which there are three), aspect ratio and intended narrative – hardly helped by my viewing from an ancient VHS copy – but as far as I can tell it’s the 108 minute alternate version from 1976 which I’ve watched.

And what a movie it is. Opening with an extended crane shot tracking a car rigged with a bomb we are gripped from the first few seconds and sucked into a world of murder, corruption and deceit. I noted with my previous noir subjects that they typically begin during day light before later descending into the darkness as the climax approaches, however here by starting in darkness it’s as though the film acknowledges a darker tone and sense of foreboding within these opening minutes.

As the car in question explodes crossing the Mexico-US border, taking a powerful construction contractor with it the plot’s key players assemble at the scene of the crime: Miguel ‘Mike’ Vargas, an idealistic Mexican narcotics officer is torn away from his newlywed to investigate the bombing when American Police Captain Hank Quinlan (played by a heavily made up Welles) intervenes, aggressively taking charge of the matter.

For starters, the nationality of these two leading men introduces an uncomfortable element of racial tension to the proceedings. Though the choice of Charlton Heston made up as a Mexican for Vargas suggests pressure from Hollywood to ‘play it safe’, the handling of the racial undertones is far from immature or one sided. Quinlan’s intolerance is highlighted in his objections to Vargas speaking Spanish in his presence, while even Vargas’s American wife ‘Susan’ displays a tendency to racially stereotype, condescendingly referring to a gang youth as “Poncho”.

As we enter the day again and the two reluctantly cooperate in the interrogation of a Mexican suspect things take a critical turn when Quinlan claims to have discovered dynamite in the home of the accused. Identifying the box it was found within as an empty one he previously overturned, Vargas accuses Quinlan of framing their suspect marking a key change in direction for the narrative. To some extent both are detective figures attempting to solve the initial bombing, but as matters develop and the conflict between them escalates, their interests gradually shift from the crime itself over to smearing each other’s reputations.  Soon it becomes clear that the bomb was merely a catalyst for something far more sinister.

As Vargas sets about searching for incriminating evidence of his opposite number’s corruption in the police records, Quinlan is approached by ‘Uncle’ Joe Grandi – local crime lord and target of the ongoing dope crackdown – with a mutually beneficial scheme to incriminate Susan in a drug scandal and ruin Vargas in the process, an offer which proves just too tempting. There’s never much doubt that Quinlan is the real villain of the piece and that Vargas is our hero, but at the same time Welles’s antagonist has a level of character complexity that isn’t often seen in the medium making things less clear cut than they might first seem. As villainous as he may initially appear with his abrasive manner, ruthless scheming and grotesque obesity it’s hard to find Quinlan entirely unsympathetic.

As matters begin to spiral out of control we hear more about him from Pete Menzies; his long time partner on the force; Depicting him as role model for his own career, Menzies enthusiastically tells Susan at one point how Quinlan got his “game leg” taking a bullet meant for him along with several other mentions of him overcoming alcoholism. Being treated to a glass of Bourbon by Grandi in spite of repeated claims that he no longer drinks, we witness the start of a steep decline that is ironically as likely to draw empathy from viewers as it does horror.

Alan Silver and James Ursini’s The Noir Style (1999) offers a particularly insightful take on how this duality is represented within the visuals in relation to the image above:

 ‘Bulk also adds vulnerability to Detective Hank Quinlan (Orson Welles) in Touch of Evil (1958). Quinlan is a man trapped by the web of violence and deceit he has woven around himself. While his massive figure seems about to explode from an excess of poisonous fluid springing from his corrupt nature, his face sags as he realizes his plans have back fired and he is now caught in his own web. The frame exhibits several layers of metaphorical traps. In the foreground he is framed by the arch of the porch with its curving designs resembling the jaws of a monstrous animal. Further within the shot the door frame acts as a tighter trap, enclosing his formidable figure. And finally, two shadows cut across his body, one horizontally over his midriff and one diagonally at his knees. These foreshadow his imminent doom. In the background Welles the director places a pair of horns, strategically positioned to give the impression that they are growing out of his head, a none too subtle demonic reference.’  

(Silver, Ursini, 1999, p71)

Indeed; while the film embodies most of the crooked camera angles, heavy shadowing and symbolism which had become a genre standard by this point Touch of Evil has its own distinct look, perhaps thanks to the offbeat setting or Welles’s directorial eye resulting in striking often disturbing imagery which complements the story’s tone perfectly.

As night descends once again and Grandi’s gang forcibly intoxicates Susan, the shift back to a darker tone is once again emphasised as Quinlan takes things a step further. No longer content with a pinning a mere drug charge on his foe, consumed by alcohol and anger he strangles his accomplice in order to frame Vargas’s wife for murder – something which in turn echoes the alleged murder of Quinlan’s own spouse by the same method.

Again, this draws viewer sympathy alongside their disgust, but more disturbingly it also draws comparisons between our hero and antagonist with the suggestion that Quinlan may once have shared a similar outlook on law enforcement as his enemy – something lent further weight as Vargas descends into a bar brawl in search of his own missing wife. His fall isn’t so great certainly, but the parallel is definitely there; for all their differences Vargas and Quinlan have a worrying amount in common by the end of the film.

The finale is slightly reminiscent to that of The Third Man (1949) in the way that Menzies – finding irrefutable evidence of his partner’s corruption and murderous behaviour – is forced to confront his idol with lethal consequences. However, while Harry Lime was portrayed as an unrepentant villain, it’s hard not to feel sorry for Hank Quinlan in his dying moments. In what may well be the film’s most powerful moment, Quinlan hears the wire recording of him shooting Menzies in panic, forcing him to face up to what he’s done for the first time, and finally acknowledge his downfall.

All this would have made for a traditionally satisfying Hollywood ending seeing evil punished and bravery rewarded, however Welles makes a bold move by denying us this in the final moments of dialogue.  Arriving on the scene following Quinlan’s death, the assistant district attorney explains how the original suspect has confessed to the bombing, that in spite of everything “Quinlan was right after all”. It’s a final twist which throws former conceptions of good and evil into uncertainty, making an already hazy depiction of morality into a mire.

This is perhaps the essence of what makes Touch of Evil such an admirable piece of enduring film; it presents compelling, complex characters casting aside the traditional ‘crime and solution’ formula in favour of a personal descent into chaos that leaves no one entirely blameless or clearly to blame for that matter. It’s a movie more concerned with where things go wrong rather than how they are solved, which seeks to overturn polarised notions of good and evil.

Who really has the ‘touch of evil’? Anyone who’s desperate enough it would seem.