ICYMI! Cosmic Detective: The Third God

Jack Kirby’s fascination with the cosmic, in his superheroic works for both Marvel and DC, feels at times, one of the most fundamental influences of the genre. The Celestials, Eternals, and New Gods have made their way from obscured comic runs to critically acclaimed graphic novels, influential cartoons, and multimillion-dollar grossing movies. That development proves time and time again the dense, visually distinct stories of distant realms and sweeping stories involving cosmic deities make for a compelling sub-genre that speaks to something foundational in the comics medium. 

Cosmic Detective – written by Jeff Lemire and Matt Kindt with art, colors, and lettering by David Rubín, and flatting by Xulia Pisón and Kike J. Díaz – follows as an archetypal detective investigates the murder of a ‘god.’ The detective works for a shadowy organization dedicated to maintaining a tense peace with the cosmic beings of unimaginable power. An apple seed appears to be the murder weapon and a woman was kidnapped amid the killing. 

The premise is a pitch-perfect set-up for a sci-fi neo-noir, blending the lofty ideals of the former with the grizzled realism of the latter. Lemire and Kindt infuse a perfect blend of the two genres from page one, giving the book a wholly unique feel even as it trades in comfortable tropes. The graphic novel uses the well-worn tropes to create a baseline before extending into the celestial elements of the mystery, and the unknown depths of the murder mystery. 

As the Detective continues his investigation, he crosses through his typical stomping grounds, which involve poorly lit bars, alternative realms that bend the laws of physics, and even captured by the beings he’s investigating. The back half of the story diverts itself into a more cosmic story, as the Detective is taken away from his family and into the clutches of the Gods, stuck in their realm that evokes the imagery of a New Genesis and is experimented on over and over. Like any good story blending sci-fi and heavy mythology, the tale ends with the bittersweet, as the missing woman escapes at a cost. 

Lemire and Kindt ensure there’s never a moment where one genre feels inorganic to the other, weaving the extraterrestrial into the plot of the investigation with a deft hand. The tropes of both feed into one another creating a harmony of exposition, MacGuffins, and motivation to move the story from start to finish, living in the complexities of both. Mysterious women, world-weary detectives, and epic, cosmic weapons make for an exceptional hook that keeps the familiar in the foreground while the fantastical, otherworldly technology fills the panels. 

Rubín’s artwork makes for excellent execution of these dueling narrative flavors, working on detailed, alien characteristics and simplified human representations. In the wider panels, Rubín employs clean lines and generic expressions that play closer to a comic strip. On the opposite end of the spectrum, when illustrating the cosmic elements of the story, Rubín employs thicker, more detailed pencils in close-ups and splash pages to illustrate the gap between dimensions. 

The cosmic elements of the graphic novel thrive in the unnatural, ethereal colors of Kirby-esque gods. The hues and sheens evoke the unknowable and blend that sense of offsetting yet captivating all at once. It’s like staring into a far-off galaxy, the swirl of pinprick colors littering the sky and holding an endless possibility within. Even when the Detective is making his way through the grim and grit of the city, something is captivating about the way the colors shine past the dirt and sleaze, hinting at the depth and texture lingering beneath. 

Alongside the coloring, the lettering enriches that sense of otherness, as redacting black bars hide the identifying nomenclature for the gods. It’s a small decision that evokes both the feeling of sealed case files and the forbiddenness of the specific information about cosmic beings. Similar techniques are employed by Rubín when depicting SFX and other lettering beats, drawing the eye and incorporating them onto the page with a sense of organic dissonance. They stand out against the art in a way that reads as noticeable, but never feels like they don’t belong together.