Last Days of an Immortal
Published by: Archaia – 2012
Written by: Fabien Vehlmann
Illustrated by: Gwen De Bonneval
The 2012 French graphic novel Last Days of an Immortal, by Fabien Vehlmann (writer) and Gwen De Bonneval (artist) is foreign not only for its country and language of origin but, rather, seems spawned by a world of cultural touchstones alien to those of us fed on a diet of Americana.
On its surface, Last Days of an Immortal is surreal science-fiction, but it avoids the science-fiction tropes that are ubiquitous in American sci-fi. World domination, power-mad villains, interstellar war, and vast conspiracies are all absent, replaced by a unique and original perspective on such notions as inter-species relations, diplomacy, society, custom, identity, mortality, and immortality.
The main character, Elijah, is a member of the “Philosophical Police” whom act as investigators and diplomats whom handle everything from murder investigations—rare occurrences in a world where death has nearly been abolished by technology—to negotiating peace between conflicting alien societies. The characters are, as one might expect from the title, essentially immortal. It is possible for each character to make numerous copies of themselves and, upon the death of a copy, that copy’s memories can be transferred to the primary incarnation; in the event of the death of the primary incarnation, a copy can be re-designated as primary and have copies of itself made. However, each person’s memories can only span so much time, so, as time progresses, forgetfulness robs each person of their oldest memories. Disease has essentially been eradicated, so, the most common types of death are accident, murder, and suicide. At some point, after having lived for hundreds of years, some people elect to die, but this suicide, and death in general, are treated very matter-of-factly—as if they are not occasions to mourn. However, the main character does find something to mourn when confronted with the inevitable eventuality of completely forgetting a deceased cherished friend.
The alien species in Last Days of an Immortal would be unfamiliar to anyone familiar with the American tendency to render aliens as essentially human in both appearance and culture, anatomy and custom. One species in the story, for example, exists in perpetual theatre, each citizen playing a role in elaborate costumes and saying lines assigned to them, only able to meaningfully communicate with each other unscripted ideas through pregnant subtleties within the manner of their scripted performances. Another species is made purely of vibrations and can take thousands of years to communicate even the simplest messages.
The art is competent but unimpressive. The art’s style, though, is noteworthy for contributing to the overall alien-ness of the narrative. It is very simple, almost primitive, frequently lacks backgrounds, and is in black, white, and shades of grey—unembellished by hatching, minute or elaborate detail, or dramatic lighting or a two-dimensional design aesthetic. It creates an impression reminiscent of a toned-down version of the bizarre artwork of Fletcher Hanks, a very obscure golden-age American comic artist best known for the recent collections of his work—I Shall Destroy All the Civilized Planets! (2007) and You Shall Die by Your Own Evil Creation! (2009) published by Fantagraphics Books—and his character “Stardust the Super Wizard.” Add to that just a hint of manga influence—which is becoming more and more common among American artists and, in that sense, might be a normalizing or domesticating influence—and one might have a sense of the singularness of the art.
Last Days of an Immortal would be appropriate for a general audience if not for the casual nudity and one graphic sex-scene. In the world of the story, sex is obsolete and is engaged in as a novelty. Profanity and violence are essentially absent.
Recommendations:
The comics that Last Days of an Immortal brings to mind are ones that share its departure from what one has come to expect in the many mainstream genres of American culture—that is, its foreignness. Specifically, the Spanish comics The Extended Dream of Mr. D and Bardin the Superrealist by Max (no last name) and the many works of the “godfather” of manga, Osamu Tezuka, particularly Phoenix Volume 2: Future the second book in his Phoenix opus.
The Extended Dream of Mr. D is about a surreal dream the main character, Mr. D, experiences while in a coma for forty days and forty nights. It is an exploration of the human psyche and the various things people sublimate or suppress and their role in forming a healthy and whole individual—or a disturbed and deranged one—all the while under the guise of a reality-bending experience of dream-logic.
Bardin the Superrealist is harder to summarize as there is no single primary narrative, but, rather, shorter pieces, each featuring the eponymous “Bardin,” wherein he may be subject to the strange or bizarre, or may merely be discussing philosophy over coffee.
Phoenix Volume 2: Future is a fascinating take on love and immortality. In Phoenix Volume 2: Future all military decisions are made by super computers, and they decide that an extinction-level war is inevitable, and subsequently eradicate humanity except for one man, whom cannot die, and whom spends the next several hundred, or even thousand, years trying to rebuild a machine that could bring his lost love back to life.
Brian Bigelow
January 27, 2017
