Wild Animals #1: Pushed Too Far

Brisson doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to social commentary in Wild Animals #1, the first issue of a new gritty crime thriller. Neil is working class. His mom is dying, but he doesn’t get to spend time with her because he can’t get out of any of his shifts. His mom’s life insurance is getting devoured by medical bills. He is in danger of being evicted. On and on it goes. Neil is practically a walking, talking political party platform. Fortunately, within the context of Neil’s circumstances, it doesn’t come across as preachiness. These hurdles provide obvious motivation for the character, but don’t argue a point beyond their use as character development.

Regardless of any commentary, though, Wild Animals #1’s story is an affecting one. There are some moments where Neil’s life is tragic to the point of heartbreaking. A lot of that revolves around his mom being in the hospital. But Brisson also infuses him with serious inadequacy issues. None of this is played for some kind of mystery. The issue explains why he feels the way he feels fairly early on. And indeed, Neil’s flashback plays into a major plot shift at the end of the issue.

It’s particularly important that Neil be as well developed as he is because Wild Animals #1 lacks a plot for most of the issue. Mostly it is a series of vignettes featuring Neil. It’s only in the last several pages that a plot develops, and in truth it has little to do with the vignettes that precede it. This structure leads to a potential problem, though.

Readers may struggle with the end of Wild Animals #1 because Neil’s development and the issue’s tone take a big, hard left turn. The shift in Neil’s character is so significant that he practically becomes a different person. What happens to him makes perfect sense within the context of the series, but it has the potential to make him less sympathetic in the process.

Kuhn’s art style fits entirely with where Wild Animals #1 ultimately ends up. His linework in general is on the thicker side. Shading is likewise heavy handed, with fields of black dominating as compared to softer, more subtle lines. Overall, Kuhn eschews subtlety in favor of a rougher, somewhat harsh style. At a distance, characters might have an extra line to delineate a cheekbone or a couple worry lines above the eyes. It’s only in closeup that Kuhn gets deeply into the character’s emotions via their facial features. The closer in that the image is, the more detailed the character.

More impressive than Kuhn’s character work, though, are his choices for when to be detailed in a setting and when not to be. Both of Neil’s fight sequences take place in a convenience store with racks full of assorted food, drinks, and other items. Kuhn largely divorces the fights from the location. The only details that are included are those that directly impact the fight. Chocolate bars appear randomly in one panel so that Neil can grab some, throwing them at his assailants in the next. A stack of cans, seemingly surrounded by nothing, show up in one panel so Neil can be knocked into them. Even more striking is when Neil makes a second visit to see his mother in the hospital and everything besides him and his mother’s bed is thrown to black. When a doctor approaches, their body is visible, but their head is likewise lost to surrounding black. Kuhn gives almost every scene its own distinct atmosphere.

Cunniffe’s color palette isn’t vivid per se, but it is rich. He still creates significant contrast between people, items, and settings. There is very little adjustment in shades or any other shadow effects resulting from position relative to implied light sources. In this way the coloring lacks subtlety in the same way Kuhn’s art does. It is a very effective marriage of the two creatives’ work.

The main exception to this seeming lack of nuance is Neil’s early flashback sequence. The colors remain distinct (bushes are still green, for instance), but everything is given a light sepia overtone. Cunniffe employs somewhat more variation in shade to suggest shadows than he does elsewhere in the issue.

Jones makes a lettering choice that also contributes to the rough style created by Kuhn and reinforced by Cunniffe. Neil’s internal monologue is delivered in a font that mimics and a handwritten scrawl. As the reader gets to know Neil, it becomes clear how much this font choice reflects him.