The Best Reprints of 2008: Heavy Liquid

Just like a good action movie, comics filled with action are fun and sexy.

No wait, they aren’t. They really aren’t… But they could be.

Comics could be filled with sex, drugs, rock and roll. Call me crazy, but part of the reason I enjoy action movies is for the well-built, sweaty people running gracefully around in them.

And how about mysteries, spooky thriller comics, they aren’t particularly stylish or gripping either. Why not? I want something like those fabulous old Hitchcock movies, where Cary Grant or Gregory Peck run around looking frazzled and haunted. Why can’t we have some of that in our comics? Some of those tall, strong, impeccably-dressed, mysterious tough guys who no one really understands like we do, (mostly because there is often a first-person dialogue and we can read their minds, but you know what I mean).

In fact, while I’m wishing, could the whole comic be really stylish and confusing, but simultaneously quite direct and primal in both plot, dialogue, and most of all; the look?

On all of the above, Heavy Liquid delivers. Paul Pope creates a wild ride of a story, rumbling it’s way around the world of 2070 like some crazy, dirty languid subway. He uses every tool at his disposal to paint a picture of this dirty, messed up future, filled with intrigue, danger, violence, and beauty.

This is the story of a man who is addicted to a drug made from the titular “heavy liquid”, (something like a metallic cake batter until it is heated and becomes liquid). It’s also about a group of friends who stole the drugs from a dangerous bunch of gangsters. Or maybe it’s not about drugs… interestingly, no one actually knows what the heavy liquid is, but it’s very rare, and seems to have a few interesting uses, so it’s a commodity. This man has lost dear friends, he’s lost his lover, he’s lost his lust for life, and ultimately he’s just lost in life, and he wants to be that way too.

All of this information is conveyed in the first few pages, so I’m spoiling nothing to tell you this. It’s that kind of a ride – immediate and immersive – everything is just thrown at you and you’re expected to take it all in. As a reader, it’s a lot of fun to get a book that demands full attention, expects commitment and involvement. And while it’s set in the future, there is never a moment where someone says “Gee, please explain what that gadget is, or how the economy works, or how medical technology has changed?” Those things are all in the book, but they’re incidental, just things happening in passing, tools people use. Basically, the future is not the story, it is just the environment – the future is one more aspect of this rich book.

The initial few pages of this book set up such an iconic character, a hero with so much potential for adventure, that the book is immediately addictive. It’s a lot of fun to obediently follow the path laid out and slowly uncover the secrets, but just as much fun to meander through the side alleys of notes and details which map out the rest of the world in the book.

In the past, I’ve found that often a writer will start a book with great enthusiasm and excitement, only to peter out and eventually leave the story with some major questions unanswered, or even worse, leave the story half written. I hate it when a wonderful book turns to metaphorical mush, you can almost feel the writers saying “So ummmm, can I stop now? Have I completed the number of pages that I am contractually obliged to write?” This is not that kind of book.

Heavy Liquid has got a great rhythm to it, it’s like a perfect mix of science-fiction, manga, rock ‘n’ roll, heist, spy thriller. There are just enough points of realization, moments of discovery, chase scenes, flashbacks, surreal new characters, emotional outbursts, and big city-scape moments to keep you reading. Despite this consciously-created tension, most of the time it’s slightly too chaotic to follow, in a good way, i.e. it takes it out of the formulaic and into the unknown. That perfect imbalance, throwing the reader off with surprises and incongruity, is precisely why this is such a fantastic example of Paul Pope’s work. He’s made books that are more well known, or more widely purchased, or won awards, but this feels like the one that was yanked right out of his unconscious mind. These characters all feel like facets of what he’d like to be in a slightly more exciting version of reality.

With a saturated brush, Pope’s inking is distinctive and evocative. Somehow he manages to take a very ancient-looking loose, calligraphic brush stroke and make it look like Moebius (contributing his futuristic vision and obsessive attention to detail) and Kirby (for his dynamic, kinetic lines of movement, and square-jawed heroes) got together and some kind of unnatural, mutant art baby.

Nearly 10 years after it was originally published, the story is still entirely engaging. At moments there are tiny indicators of the era that it was created in, (like the millennial-era excitement about the future, the fashionable functionality of the gadgetry, the multi-purpose nature of the clothing), and none of these are negatives. In addition to the quality of the originally published book, this new edition has been completely redesigned in 2 pantone colors, it’s cleaner, more classic look. Apparently this new version is based on the French version, published by Dargaud. When Pope first came to the fore, with work like this, THB, 100%, and then Batman: Year 100, much was made of his youth and fashionable attire, the whole New York hipster culture that he seemed to embody. But separate the work from the hype, and you can really enjoy it. With it’s classic noir components and it’s dirty city, all broadly painted, it’s just rampant fun and eminently worth reading this new edition and enjoying the ride.

Next week: Leonard Starr‘s Mary Perkins on Stage is sassier than I ever could have imagined.

Sonia Harris wishes it were the future. She would like a jetpack, a replicator, and a roomba. If you have any information on the whereabouts of these items, contact her at sonia@ifanboy.com.