Comic book, 2013
Rain Comic #1 is a recent release in a series of anthology comics published by Mickey Z and featuring work by her, Patrick Kyle, and Michael Deforge, each focusing of a different subject (Basketball Comic #1, Xmas Comic #1, etc.) Sometimes the subject, as with the most recent release, Butler Comic #1, contains thematic elements so intrinsic that they can’t help but surface in each author’s piece, no matter how far outside the realm of human experience and perception they twist it. So I was interested to see how they handled the subject of rain, possibly their most thematically broad topic yet. Reading it, I was surprised at how central the authors managed to make rain to their stories, both to the plot and thematically. In the various stories, ranging from one to six pages long each, rain is used to talk about legacy, experience, and as a transformational agent. All in all, only a couple of the one page strips seemed to say “oh, and it was also raining”. After I finished the book, I remembered what James Kochalka did with the same subject in his Hulk Vs Rain story, and felt silly for not realizing ahead of time that, in the hands of a storytelling lineup as strong as this one, a broader subject could actually serve as an even more direct tool.
When a serialized work evolves into something distinct from its initial form, it can sometimes be hard not to miss the bits it shed in order to make room for what it became. Is it a creator’s duty to maintain the work’s original aim, or to at least guide its evolution in a way that will mitigate any disappointment on the part of the audience? Certainly not, but it does call into question whether it’s a good idea to keep referring to it by the same name.
This, as you may have guessed is the difficulty I’m having with the third season of League of Gentlemen, a season with big differences from the two that came before it. In my view, so far, there are two departures of note: the absence of a laugh track and the relative mundanity of the characters. The inclusion of a laugh track in the early seasons was something that took getting used to for me. Distracting at first, but once I was able to tune it out it became a part of the ambience, a part that brought out the humor/ horror juxtaposition I previously discussed being central to the show. Without it, we’re no longer watching a network comedy gone delirious, we’re watching something delirious of its own free will, which is much less exciting.
Although it might stand to reason that this would free Gentlemen up to extend the boundaries of its insanity even further, it opts for just the opposite. This season consists of human interest stories- characters fall in love under difficult circumstances, experience career setbacks, and maintain extra-marital affairs. While those elements were always presented in the show, they now dominate it. Royston Vasey is no longer home to the monster children of deranged shopkeepers, menacing circus demons, and malicious psychic twins of seasons past. Where these characters had their roots in nightmare, season there’s characters have their roots in reality.
The thing that compensates for these loses somewhat, and what I imagine what the show’s creators intentionally sacrificed these things in order to achieve, is deeper stories that relate more directly to humanity. And it’s certainly not a failure on that front. But with the depth of its comedy and the heights of its insanity cut off, you’re forced to wonder if it’s really the same show.
League of Gentlemen is a show I’ve heard mentioned here and there over the years, most notably a few back when the Kids in the Hall reunited to produce a miniseries that was said to be a weak xerox of it. But that’s selling the Kids in the Hall short, as League of Gentlemen clearly owes much to their original work as well. “If Kids in the Hall made Twin Peaks” is how I’ve been pitching it to people after having made my way through half the series over the last few weeks. As much as it owes to Kids in the Hall (the limited male cast portraying a wide array of characters including cross-dressing for the women, the rapid fire nature of sketch comedy, the off-beat sense of humor) it owes equally to Twin Peaks, with its recurring cast of oddball characters populating a small town, the sagas and mysteries of which continuously spiral forward, often ending up in very dark places. The place where those two distinct flavors, humor and horror, clash is where the show draws much of its power, as you’re often left to wonder, as you’re watching something absolutely ghastly or downright viscerally terrifying unfold, “How is there a laugh track on top of this?” But the loose and dangerous structure of the show, in addition to being an ideal vehicle for the creators’ wild imaginations, showcases intricately structured, and unexpectedly emotionally intelligent, storytelling.