Eight issues in and Brian Wood's watch on Conan the Barbarian continues to be
about something else. This 'elseworld' that Wood crafts is less an alternate
reality and more a loose constructionist's take on a well-worn (and well-loved)
character. Wood wants to examine the psychology (pathology?) of the barbarian,
to overlay a scrim of reality on the fantasy. In Wood's interpretation Conan the Barbarian is a story in which
actions get subsumed by motivations -- not a 'what if,' but a why and a how.
The narrative voice contained within its now familiar, torn
and ragged dialogue boxes talks about Conan's ''bad feelings,'' and concerns that he is ''loathe to admit'' to himself about the distance that continues to
grow between he and Bêlit as the two lovers trek across the wastelands of the
north; Cimmeria, it's a relationship killer.
When Conan does talk it's to teach Bêlit about the ''fatalism'' of the North and how its
people ''struggle'' and are ''resigned'' to hardship and to death -- call
it the Zen of the Cimmerian or a kōan
for Conan. Navel-gazing aside, Wood's interpretation of Conan is not an attempt to turn this warrior into
a worrier, which has become an irritation for those inclined to a more
adventurous and less brooding barbarian. This 'Conan crucible' that Wood has
constructed presents the facts and challenges readers to figure out the how and
the why for themselves. Perhaps Wood is taking a page from the director Ernst
Lubitsch, who said, ''Let the audience
add up two plus two. They’ll love you forever.'' To put Conan 'on the
couch' so to speak is to examine what is implicit in his actions, what
underlies the overt and what to infer from what is left unsaid, heady stuff,
indeed.
Like a couple of grim Marlows in search of their Kurtz,
Conan and Bêlit slog through devastation and deprivation as they track a killer
(an imposter) calling himself Conan of Canach. In a snowy forest glade they are
ambushed (if you call three arrows an ambush). On Conan's command, Bêlit flings
dagger into the surrounding canopy and brings down the brigand. The rear-guard
is able to croak out ''… waiting for ...
you …'' before he … well, croaks. Now, for two characters so out of their
depth, so hounded by the black dog of depression that each regrets the others
presence they remain far from fatalistic or resigned to their miseries. If
nothing else, Conan and Bêlit are born survivors.
The Queen may be far from her Black Coast, but she still
calls the shots. She tells Conan to go off ahead of her to the ice fields in
search of his quarry -- later the narrator will describe Bêlit's call to arms
as ''the gift of freedom she had given
him.'' As the lovers embrace, Bêlit, on the tips of her toes, says, ''The things I know, barbarian could fill this
world and many more. Postpone your departure for a while longer, and come back
to bed.'' It's here where the story gets weird, but with sexy results.
What follows is a sequence of a nude Bêlit as she rides bareback
on a black horse across desert plains to the sea. Colorist Dave Stewart bathes Bêlit
in tangerine and muted honey tones. At first this seems like a tasteful and un-Chaykin
like way to show a sex scene, except that it isn't a sex scene or a
metaphor, sort of. It's a dream or a memory (maybe) or a memory of a dream that
Bêlit has been having. Wood has been playing with dreams (mostly Conan's ) from
the jump, but this is the first time the reader looks in on Bêlit's interior
life. Like N'Yaga's prophecies and Conan's motivations, these dreams are
another aspect that Wood asks his reader to explain -- it's interpretation all
the way down.
Not to mix my sports with my comics, but like Conan, I too am
resigned when I admit: Becky Cloonan is not walking through that door.
The 'sexy people' drawn by previous artists Cloonan and James Harren have been sawn
off and become weedy, spindly and crimped. Artist Vasilis Lolos is not helped
by the fact that due to the cold Cimmerian climate, Conan and Bêlit have to
spend much of their time cloaked and under cover. Even if that's 'what the
script called for,' why draw them like unmade beds with hair that looks like an
inversion of the 'iron throne' from Game
of Thrones? Lolos looks to have the potential to bring sexy back -- his interpretation
of Bêlit's dream is very sensual -- and his hard-edge style works for wolves as
well as a way to meet Cimmeria on its own terms and yet, it falls far short of
the standard set by Cloonan and Harren.
There's been more frustration and little fury in this latest
tripartite tale, the wolves and the last panel in issue #8 hint at a ferocious
reckoning, but not yet. Some readers may find that this second act of Border Fury leaves them … umm … well,
furious. Others, however, should take a page from those hard-won denizens of
the north, from Cimmeria itself: don't give up, instead, inquire within for the
answers to questions that writer Brian Wood continues to ask.
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