080100 Review: I DIE AT MIDNIGHT
It's the end of the millenium... and Larry too?

Created by: Kyle Baker
Prestige Format Single Issue
Published by DC Comics/Vertigo, December 1999
$6.95

Reviewed by Gregory Dickens

I normally don't go for the mix of computer graphics with comic illustration.

The recent Braniac arc in the Superman family of titles saw the villain and a revamped Metropolis in perfect geometry crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with organic line and energy. It was a car wreck of color separations and resolutions. SHOCKROCKETS #2 includes a flight simulator with computer-generated images sharing pages with traditional comic panelwork. John Byrne regularly cheats backgrounds with computer-generated vistas, including a model of Gateway City during his run on WONDER WOMAN. PROMETHEA #7, however, as a recent example, blends photographs and comics in computer-embellished imagery.

The latter isn't nearly as jarring and that may be because of the precedence of such like manipulation with Dave McKean's work in ARKHAM ASYLUM and others. The problem with shoehorning computer work next to comic lines and expressions is that the illustrations, no matter how much pop they pack, can't compete with the extremity of angles and perspective that gives the computer images its appeal. It's a paradox, isn't it? Wouldn't we expect the computer stuff to be lacking compared to expressive line? Shouldn't it be flat?

Just the opposite. The computer imagery is aglow, sometimes, literally, in neon hues, whereas the modern coloring techniques encourage artists to craft realistic tones and shades dependent on light, especially to complement an artist with a less-stylized style. The majority of computer imagery used so far in comics doesn't have that restriction, and the colors muscle the linework out of the way.

I DIE AT MIDNIGHT doesn't have that problem because Kyle Baker's style, while supported by strong shading and anatomy, is a landmine of exaggerated expression and movement. With frenetic poses, postures, foreshortening, panel pacing and proportion, Baker recalls the momentum of creators like Jack Kirby, Harvey Kurtzman and Jack Davis. Strong, flat shadows push the figures toward the reader and deep perspective extends their surroundings, making the figures appear closer. And then the characters are cropped tightly within the panels, as if the imaginary cameraman was distracted by what's going on behind them. This makes a spacing relationship to the reader where the action isn't in just "in your face," sometimes it's under your chin or over your ear.

So when Baker adds the sharp hues, manipulated images and props (pill bottles, letters, camera cranes) from the computer the art can compete. Sometimes. It's not a perfect seam. In some panels, what appears to be the Photoshop airbrush tool clouds over flat backs. Outlines are lost and the illusion of perspective compromised. In some panels the normally deep black shadows are tinted as a darker shade of a material's hue. It's not consistently used when conveying clothes, weight, texture or reflective light and it's jarring to move to see the technique leapfrog panels.

But "jarring" is an appropriate reaction to the technique; it adds to the energy and desperate measures undertaken by the narrator to stay alive and find the proverbial needle in the millennium party haystack.

Larry has just downed a bottle of pills because he can't live without Muriel. As he's about to edit the suicide note, Muriel arrives saying she wants him back. She collects herself in the bathroom, meaning Larry can't make himself vomit up the pills. Why not out the window? Hell's Angels are below him. Why not the kitchen sink? He'll never be able to clean it up before Muriel departs the john and he can't let her know he tried something as melodramatic as suicide for love.

He's advised by his friend, Charlie, to call Charlie's pal, a doctor. She can give him an antidote but he has to take it -- you guessed it -- before midnight. The ex tells Charlie what's going on with Larry before she realizes the friend -- the very, very big and angry Charlie -- was just dumped by his girlfriend, who just happens to be Muriel. So Charlie chases Gigi to keep Larry away from the pills and Larry hunts Gigi while hiding the reason why from Muriel so as not to discourage her revived affections for him. And all this takes place while New York is a sardine can of millennium revelers.

In addition to Baker's sharp eye for color and poses is his ear for conversation. Baker is easily one of comics' funniest writers and he knows how to mix text with pictures for the strongest effect, such as when Chalrie and Larry fight in front of giant billboards, the ad text mirrored in their fight. Charlie boots Larry with an ad for "Stomp" behind them.

Baker can also swing from humor to melodrama; even if we're angry with Larry for acting like a total rube, we still empathize. He's not a bad guy; just an average man trying to repair a stupid move while the world seemingly plots against him. It's a classic comedy set-up and Larry's lack of clarity helps to explain away the plotholes. For example: Why doesn't he just throw up in the trashcan?

Answer: Because then the story would be ten pages long. And not near as funny.

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Gregory Dickens is a staff writer for PopImage.