The Surface #1-4
Published by: Image – 2015
Written by: Ales Kot
Illustrated by: Langdon Foss
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Change #1-4
Published by: Image – 2012
Written by: Ales Kot
Illustrated by: Morgan Jeske
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The Surface:
The 2015, five-issue, Image Comics miniseries The Surface, written by Ales Kot and illustrated by Langdon Foss, begins its life as part of a genre of existential science-fiction which might trace its contemporary genesis to the science-fiction movie The Matrix. At first, Kot vividly creates a future world dominated by oversharing on social media, where every moment of every person’s life is recorded and instantly shared—a fable for modern times—and intimates a society where a vastly privileged minority chokes the opportunities of the subjugated poor. The reader becomes invested in the characters introduced therein, whose success or failure becomes a matter the reader cares about, but whom are ultimately abandoned without resolution, much like the rest of the initial premise.
The Surface draws inspiration from the esoteric depths of modern theoretical physics. It repeatedly makes use of the notion that three-dimensional reality is actually a hologram encoded on a two-dimensional surface and begins as a search for this surface. This idea might seem tantamount to college metaphysics or psychedelic pseudo-religious mumbo-jumbo, but it is founded in real science whose implications and ramifications are truly understood only by a few scientists and mathematicians on the cutting edges of their respective fields. Also addressed is the existential mainstay of examining the role of belief in the manifestation of reality.
Like The Matrix, The Surface fails to deliver on the existential promises made at its beginning. The Matrix forsook the initial foundational idea of a hierarchy of nested realities—parallel universes manifested and sustained by events within other universes—and the potential for transcending each reality for realities that are more “real”—like waking from an infinite series of dreams—and instead fell into the more familiar tropes of robot vs. human, technological cautionary tales, conflicts for dominance, and the pursuit of freedom from oppression. The Surface, likewise, ultimately forsakes science-fiction for, instead, meta-fiction, incorporating not only its author, Ales Kot, as a character—following in a tradition begun by writer Grant Morrison in Animal Man back in the 1980s—but also references and connects to Kot’s earlier four-issue comic book series Change. This is not a complete abandonment of existential considerations but, rather, a shift from an exploration of the nature of reality and consciousness, to the nature of fiction and truth. This part of the story also introduces real-life issues and occurrences from Kot’s own personal life and examines how they affect the worlds he creates through his writing.
Langdon Foss’s art is one of the immediate appeals of The Surface. It is simple and clean, yet detailed. It features “alien” landscapes reminiscent of French comics legend Moebius, futuristic tech in the tradition of Japanese manga, and expressive characters and an overall drawing style that follows in the footsteps of Geof Darrow from comics such as Hard Boiled. The Surface also includes text pages and supplemental materials which flesh out the world of the story and serve as the first intimations of the ensuing meta-fictional resolution.
Though there is some mild nonsexual nudity and implied polyamory—which means The Surface would likely be considered inappropriate for a younger audience—there is no graphic sexual content and the violence is kept to a minimum.
Kot also demonstrates his comic-book, sci-fi, hipster street-cred by making an obscure reference to the seminal 1997 to 2002, 60 issue, Vertigo comic book series Transmetropolitan by Warren Ellis (writer) and Darick Robertson (artist), and another reference to the highly underrated sci-fi movie Southland Tales by Richard Kelly, writer/director of the more widely-known, more well-received, cult classic film Donnie Darko.
If you like The Surface by Ales Kot, it would behoove you to check out his 2012 miniseries Change.
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Change:
Change is a much more visceral, less cerebral, experience than The Surface. It is a story of the fictional made real, of life imitating art, of love and regret, and the pain of loss.
A recurring undercurrent in the narrative of Change is the Nietzschean idea of eternal recurrence and how this relates to the traumas and regrets experienced in life and the desire to change the past, present, or future. After reading The Surface, the events and characters in Change take on new meaning and significance in the wake of the personal confessions and revelations made about the author and the role Change played in his life as an artist coming to terms with his own past, present, and future.
There is little violence and no nudity, but, despite this, Change is appropriate only for a mature audience due to the recurring theme of suicide—which can be emotionally disturbing.
Morgan Jeske’s art in Change is sometimes unclear or ambiguous but, upon closer scrutiny, is highly deliberate, inventive, and provides insights not otherwise made explicit in narration or dialogue. The art also creates a consistent and pervasive atmosphere, tone, and mood which embellish the story.
Change is not an easy read; it is, at times, not easy to make sense of, but making an effort to achieve understanding can be rewarding and enriches the reading experience. The cheap and easy too often lack depth. Certain symmetries in both the art and dialogue—such as recurring names and shared facial features—reward an attention to detail and suggest that certain events and characters are in fact metaphors for other events and characters, but it appears that, in the world of the story, these metaphors also possess a literal physical reality. Change requires an investment of both attention and contemplation to tease out the connections between various plot points and characters.
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Recommendations:
Other comics that should appeal to a similar audience as The Surface are the 2012 Image series Infinite Vacation by Nick Spencer (writer) and Christian Ward (artist) and The Manhattan Projects written by Jonathan Hickman.
The five issue miniseries Infinite Vacation uses as its premise the notion of travel between an infinite number of parallel realities encompassing every possible universe. This serves as the backdrop for a love story and a chase by a conspiracy across universes with ramifications for every one of the main character’s possible incarnations. In Infinite Vacation, travel across universes is not merely a science fiction trope or plot contrivance, but also addresses notions about the nature of reality and identity in the wake of the “multiverse” theory.
The Manhattan Projects is a less existential, but no less fascinating, science-fiction endeavor based on a historical hypothetical: what if the Manhattan Project that produced the first atomic weapon was merely the public face of an elite group of scientists and military minds involved in much more technologically advanced, stranger, and more dangerous side-projects? The series includes inter-dimensional travel, inter-stellar travel, alien races and technology, and a cast of deranged characters almost none of whom are actually whom they claim to be. One should be warned, however, that this series—which ran for twenty-five issues—is best read from the beginning. The complexities of the plot and cast of characters are such that they can be confusing or overwhelming if you don’t start with the first issue or if you miss an issue or two.
If Change appeals to you, it might be worth your time to check out Translucid, a 6-issues, 2014 Boom! Studios miniseries written by Claudio Sanchez—lead-singer of the rock band “Coheed and Cambria”—with his wife and writing partner Chondra Echert. Under the guise of a traditional superhero vs. super-villain conflict, Translucid introduces a world that—while much simpler and more straightforward in its ambitions and its execution than the world created in Change—is still more complex than one first suspects. Reality in both Translucid and Change is malleable and subjective and keeps the protagonists and readers guessing about what is really going on. For Sanchez’s protagonist, psychological traumas and emotional states are imbued with a corporeal reality, becoming characters in their own right used as weapons by the story’s antagonist—not unlike certain manifestations in Change.
Translucid is, however—like Change and The Surface—ultimately unsatisfying in its resolution, but, like the aforementioned series, the path to that resolution is fascinating and inspired, and the potential of its beginnings can’t help but make a reader wonder “What if…?”
Brian Bigelow
September 4, 2016
