The Demon #1 Review
I haven’t read a comic book in earnest for about a year. My inability to approach a once enjoyable hobby with anything more than fond memory is undoubtedly symptomatic of a larger issue. Hell, I’ve not interfaced with much of anything that I enjoy participating in–gaming, seeing new films, reading new books, hanging out with friends without a low social battery–to the point I’ve accepted that my “larger issue” may simply be Depression. I FEEL CORRUPTED. Candidly, in the same period of time, I’ve experienced a close family member receive a harrowing diagnosis, and the progressive aftereffects thereof, a soon-to-be unstable housing situation, been suplexed into the Earth’s continental crust by my employer’s suddenly hyper-aggressive expectations, and working tirelessly with my fiance to organize our own wedding. In short, life happened. But instead of dragging onward with the self-awareness of a frog in a simmering pot, I’m recognizing out loud that I’m spent. Depleted. BUT I CANNOT STOP DOOMSCROLLING. All of the above has hollowed me out in such a way that I have grown numb to my own needs. In a way, it’s actually worse than that. I’ve been swindled. In being “hollowed out” one might expect an emptiness or all-consuming void. No, it’s seemingly a worse fate. Imagine sitting in a theater and being forced to watch the movie muted, but you can still hear the audience’s feedback. Picture the uncommon sight of a rainbow bouncing off the sunset after an early evening shower and it’s entirely in greyscale. Being possessed, CORRUPTED, by the anxiety and angst of “life happened”, coupled with worthlessness as borne fruit from witnessing my own inaction and the productive action of my friends and colleagues, has rendered inert the joy once derived from these simple pleasures.
James Harren’s debut issue of The Demon reminded me that the hollowing out is a lie we tell ourselves, to convince ourselves that we have been emptied and have nothing left to give when in reality we are being actively drained by that which is beyond our control. A momentarily clandestine parasite. A slimy, wet leech latched onto humid skin extracting all that it can until attaining a state of engorgement, at which point its presence is made known. This isn’t a pity party. Life happens to everyone, all of the time, and in sometimes worse capacities. The phrase I heard growing up was ‘You never know what someone has going on in their life’ in an effort to remind me that Grace should be exercised wherever and whenever possible. It’s not possible to live a life without tragedy, hardship, or diversity. Certainly, different people from different walks of life and different layers of society will experience varying degrees of the aforementioned, but no one, regardless of societal positioning, can escape them. At one point or another we are all susceptible to a certain type of demon. It is all the more reason to identify and contend with that which siphons our focus away from the things that make us functioning human beings.
As plot this book wastes no time introducing us to a seemingly troubled vagabond muttering to himself as he traipses throughout the forgotten parts of Gotham City where its urban decay metastasizes into the exact setting you’d expect to see a silhouette of bat ears. Instead, we are presented with a stomping ground of underworldly creatures latching onto human beings in various ways as a form of sustenance. The reader should have no trouble determining rather quickly who this Vagabond is and with what internal presence his externalized conversation is shared. The Vagabond dons a wooden eye mask that exposes what truly lurks this urban landscape–in a manner reminiscent of John Carpenter’s They Live–and he, of no coincidence I’m certain, effectively dispatches his demonic enemies with simple artifacts derived from nature, such as a pinecone affixed to the end of a long pipe. This vagabond, Jason Blood, refuses to relinquish his form of man to Etrigan’s control, seeking to rid himself of the entity that possesses him while ironically doing the same for others.
James Harren’s take on The Demon will be beloved by longstanding fans of the Jason Blood/Etrigan duo, from Jack Kirby’s Prince Valiant reimagining through Wagner’s identically titled series, and even us Blood of the Demon sickos. That being said, don’t sweat it if you’ve never cracked open a single book about these characters. Harren’s interpretation seems to serve as an excellent jumping-on point for new readers despite calling back to a decent amount of visible lore. Speaking of, there is such a surprisingly healthy injection of Kirby in this first issue that, upon turning to page 11, I started whooping like an orangutan discovering a bowl of figs. And what helped carry this feeling more than anything is Harren’s art. As with Kirby’s original run, there is a freedom that bleeds off these pages that can only come from being a writer/artist and having full reign to conceptualize the story while illustrating it at-will. Throughout the issue Harren’s art legitimately melted my brain, because of how simultaneously reminiscent and unique it is. I won’t provide further context as to not spoil certain character involvement, but there’s a particular image of what is supposed to be a smartphone being held by one of these characters. Instead of icons and wires, the “smartphone” presented is, in its true state, a bioorganic rectangle of orifices and tendrils indicative of a technology devised to latch on and extract from its user. These same devices can be seen earlier on in the issue swarming and potentially controlling a trio of antagonistic hoodlums.
Most importantly, Harren’s first issue contains a setup that I’m beyond excited to see develop down the line. There’s an argument established here that humanity is nothing more than “hallucinating apes” that serve as conduits of energy to be harnessed for a nefarious few. To what end I’m unsure, and that’s what I love about Harren’s writing. In my opinion, a solid first issue shouldn’t just entice with several pages of “this is what you’ve been waiting for”. It must leave you with just as many, if not, more questions by the time you reach the back cover. Has Jason wandered for centuries, or has he intentionally exiled himself from civilization? Why can’t he remember much of anything from his Camelot days, but Etrigan can? Why is [REDACTED] a baby? What is “the cataclysm”? These are the questions I’m hoping to see answered as the story unravels on its monthly basis, and I’ll surely be pulling each and every month.
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