Christina Lee's The Method

Christina Lee's The Method is a Riso comic done in the style of a People-magazine style magazine mixed with scandal sheet sensationalism. The result is three separate stories that focus on the concepts of appearances, internalized & externalized pressure, and above all else societal expectations of women. The Method utilizes a typical Riso color pallette, with a focus on pink & blue for the first story, green & yellow for the second story, and a sort of aqua green wash for the third. These are all rather bright, cheery, and candy-colored hues one associates with Riso comics, but Lee's intentions here are clearly subversive. This comic is one long, satiric wrecking ball, taking on notions of celebrity, misogyny, the concept of effortless perfection.

The first story follows a pop star named Kelly. Interestingly, the reader never hears her speak, nor are we privy to her thoughts. She's in the stage of her career where she's an international superstar with a massive following, but she's feeling the burden of expectations. She's at the point that while she's rich and successful, her worth is entirely tied to what she does next. The story begins with her finishing up a video for her anticipated new album, and Kelly is fascinated by a billboard that defaces her with someone drawing a spurting dick on top of her face. She's obsessed with her weight and her appearance, and not only is she utterly alone at home, she refuses to answer a call from her family about her (presumably sick) father. 

Laying awake, she imagines herself as Sisyphus in heels, hoping for her own failure. A fantasy of being crushed by that boulder finally allows her to sleep, holding a magazine with her cover photo that she's defaced herself. Lee's use of restraint with regard to text and introducing images and scenarios of stressful failure adds to the dreamy quality of the story, where the reader has to discern what's real and what's Kelly's imagination. That final image clarifies everything, as her fantasies of failure are the only thing that comfort her.

The second story is one long gag about an "effortlessly perfect" office drone/receptionist sending out emails and messages written in bureaucratic babble who goes to lunch. Gorging herself on a "420 Burger" and a milkshake, the remainder of the story is her trying to hold in a noxious fart thanks to her meal. There's a great page where Lee uses an interesting grid, including stacking 4 panels vertically on the right side of the page to mimic the elevator ride where she crouches down in agony. The punchline is a hilarious fantasy sequence culminating in a candy-colored two-page spread. This is all a bit of silliness to clear the reader's palate for the much darker final story.

Titled "Superfan," it's about a young woman dolling herself up for a concert and potential meet-up with an aging comedian and actor named Brad Harrison. This has the structure and tone of a horror story, and it is. Alexis is the fan of Harrison who's going to his show--except she's lining up backstage, not for the show itself. The two-track narrative at the beginning sees Alexis getting ready for the show as an interview plays that goes over his career and accolades, with this stand-up tour being a triumphant return. It's also a different kind of triumphant return for Harrison, as Harrison only allows women twenty years and under backstage, and they must sign a non-disclosure agreement. 

There's a funny and disturbing scene where one woman lies about her age and isn't allowed in, and she throws a fit. When Alexis is let in, she sees her idol finishing up his set (and talking to his wife on the phone). However, one of Harrison's handlers directs them to the showers, because "Brad only spends time with clean girls." Alexis fantasizes about what she's going to say to him, telling him he's her comedy inspiration, etc, without a single thought as to what is actually about to happen. 

Lee likes to create striking moments and works big for this effect, as she uses a two-page spread when Alexis sees Harrison performing as a way of emphasizing the sense of awe she's feeling. Signing the NDA agreement is another two-page spread, but this time, it's a way of showing how little she seems to be taking in the implications of this signature. The final image, where she's naked and dripping wet without a towel, is a splash page. She has a rapturous expression on her face as it's just been announced that they are going to "party with Brad," but the dense blacks that surround her tell another story. Or rather, they are a signal for the horror that's about to begin, one that Lee leaves to the reader's imagination. Lee knows that the reader can guess what's about to happen, and it's that moment of tension that she seems most intent on escalating and then prolonging. Lee really puts it all together in this final story, using a wide array of visual tricks to simultaneously continue the brightness of the overall comic and then take it in a more sinister direction.

Nadine Redlich's Doing The Work

Published by German company Rotopol, Nadine Redlich's Doing The Work is on the surface a breezy collection of silly and scribbly single-panel cartoons. Underneath her brightly colored (yellow body and big red nose), bulbous, and frequently absurd stand-in lies a story with a certain sense of lurking desperation and sadness. It's a feeling that leaks out from time to time (like in one strip where the figure is working at a computer, looks at her watch, and utters "Time to cry"), but that feeling is then shunted to the side with strips like a poodle pondering existential questions, a giant walking banana slipping on a stray person, or someone swallowing an umbrella. 

Near the beginning of the book, a pink blob with a big red nose introduces herself as "Nadine's last brain cell," pauses, and then asks the readers if they like her. Later, a creature in a shell declares that it doesn't want to be perceived. (In a later cartoon, it jumps up and says "Just kidding!") This largely sums up the nature of the gags in the book; there's a deliberate and uncomfortable awkwardness present in many of them, as they linger perhaps a beat too long, or a strange, discordant, and sad note to what is otherwise a fairly conventional gag. 

There are several recurring characters: a grumpy boulder who stubbornly resists change; a hairy yellow figure; the aforementioned lecturing poodle; and several variations on the original "brain cell character." For every gag where they are doing something silly, there's another one where the banana has its head in its hands. There's an air of inevitable doom that pervades the book, but there's also a sense that the show must go on. The brightness of the colors feels almost deliberately obnoxious, and there's little about many of the actual drawings that's interesting, even at a minimalist level. Similar projects by Lewis Trondheim like Mister I or Mister O took much better advantage of the actual drawings to make interesting stories, but that doesn't seem to be what Redlich is going for here. This is a protracted howl disguised as a series of candy-colored vignettes, as Redlich constantly lets slip that mask of cheer to reveal the ways in which the narrator is barely holding on sometimes.