Charles Burn crafts a methodical masterpiece about self-discovery and main character syndrome that’s cast against Super 8 science fiction and the power of cinema.
“I didn’t know it would be like this. I thought making a movie would be a lot more fun.”
It’s hard to compare to the euphoria that’s experienced from a good graphic novel horror story. Expressive, disturbing images linger on the page and proceed at the viewer’s discretion as they set the pace, rather than vicious visuals that flash across the screen in a movie or television series. It’s easy to get lost in a graphic novel’s artwork and almost become haunted by its imagery. It’s a form of possession that can even feel otherworldly, as if the reader has left their body or become inhabited by something foreign. This isn’t an experience that’s felt with every graphic novel or comic, but the right one can feel magical. The right one can feel extraterrestrial.
Charles Burns became an indispensable name in the graphic novel and comic industry after publishing his STI-suffused body horror epic, Black Hole, which expertly deconstructed and cut through reckless teenage apathy like a knife in a slasher film. Burns is back with Final Cut, his first standalone graphic novel in nearly two decades, which in itself makes this a must-read title. However, it’s rewarding to see that Burns has only become a more accomplished, confident, and ambitious storyteller and artist in the 20 years that have passed since Black Hole’s release. Final Cut feels like the perfect evolution of Black Hole that touches on comparable themes of identity, community, and alienation, but is also very much its own unique identity. Final Cut will surprise audiences and get under their skin, but not in the way that they expect with such a sci-fi-laden narrative. Final Cut is another character-driven triumph from Charles Burns that’s a dark allegory about addiction, denial, and mental health that’s far scarier than any pod person or alien invasion.
Final Cut is a love letter to the joys and pains of the creative process – specifically the art of filmmaking – and how easy it is to get hopelessly lost in one’s own creations and artificial worlds. Brian is a detached teen, talented illustrator, and budding amateur filmmaker who spent his youth making homemade sci-fi and horror films with his friends. Now, more inspired than ever, Brian heads out to a secluded cabin in the woods to film what he knows will be his magnum opus. It just has to be. Surrounded by friends, would-be performers, and the object of his desire, Brian is determined to have an experience that he’ll never forget.
Final Cut celebrates a bunch of horror and sci-fi junkies who are at their happiest when they’re lost in a B-movie film marathon. It’s a perspective that’s not just relatable, but one that helps the audience get a firmer grasp on the type of individual that Brian is and what he gravitates towards. There are definitely traces of Ed Wood, X, and even Super 8 in Final Cut as these passionate storytellers try to put together a scrappy film production that becomes something considerably deeper and an allegory for who they are. Burns’ graphic novel captures the joy and spark of meeting someone who is on your wavelength when you’ve previously been otherwise alone. To that point, Final Cut nails the sensation of feeling alien and abnormal in a world that seems like it’s made for other people and doesn’t make sense.
The story captures a certain adolescent innocence and the corresponding freedom of having your whole life ahead of you. Final Cut is brimming with awkward, burgeoning sexuality and misplaced hormones, not unlike Black Hole. However, there is also harsher and more somber material that creeps up and rears its head. Burns’ graphic novel is very indebted to Invasion of the Body Snatchers and echoes its themes of conformity. Final Cut doesn’t pretend for a second that this is subtext and these parallels are front and center. Burns wants the reader to have other tales of extraterrestrial invasion and societal calamity on their mind as they wade through Brian and Laurie’s plight. We’re all pod people, to some extent.
Final Cut understands that filmmaking and storytelling can be used as the ultimate escape from reality, but it also addresses when hiding behind artifice can go too far and becomes problematic. Friendliness can be a horrifying veneer and the perfect disguise for more troubled individuals. There are so many powerful moments where inner monologues play out over scenes from classic cinema, like some celluloid therapy session, and these worlds continue to endlessly blur together. Brian’s video camera becomes a tool that’s akin to a time machine or a portal to another dimension that helps him disconnect. Burns’ graphic novel features a glorious, devastating moment where it swallows its own tail and unintentionally reenacts a scene from The Last Picture Show that’s as gutting as it is glorious.
There’s a powerful story that unfolds in Final Cut, but Burns’ artwork – which is in vibrant color – is just as precise as his storytelling. There are so many effective panels in Final Cut that distort Brian’s appearance and his perspective of how he views himself. The graphic novel consistently returns to festering visuals of an alien mass that don’t just haunt Brian, but the reader. They intervene and break up the narrative like intrusive thoughts that become increasingly overpowering and deafening.
Final Cut adeptly switches perspective between Brian and Laurie as the graphic novel casts a dueling account of events. It masterfully blurs the lines between fantasy and reality, and fact and fiction, as Brian heads deeper into this dream-like wormhole of creativity. There’s excellent tension that comes out of how Final Cut treats Brian like a ticking time bomb who is liable to go off at any moment. He lulls the audience, and Laurie, into a comforting sense of security. However, this increasingly feels like a facade that’s ready to crumble away. There’s such a dark sense of denial that overpowers the storytelling and turns this into a tragic tale, even if the characters refuse to acknowledge it as such. Final Cut has a really melancholy core that’s tinged in sadness and regret.
Final Cut presents a very tender romance, just not with the characters that you might expect to be at the center of it all. It reflects the unpredictable, happenstance nature of life and our tendency to make ourselves the main character of our stories. There’s a sense of comfort to be found in the ability to hide behind a script, storyboards, and a fictional narrative. This is a story of young love and wanting to be understood and seen — whether it’s on a video camera or in real life — that overpowers any intense genre material. Final Cut will resonate with anyone who has ever lost themselves in a movie, the creative process, or had their imaginations run wild. It’s proof that Charles Burns’ is still one of the masters of his craft and a name to turn to when it comes to provoking human stories with a horror edge. Final Cut hits hard and will stick with the reader long after the extraterrestrial spectacle of the lights, camera, and action has faded to a dull hum.
Charles Burns’ ‘Final Cut’ was released September 24 by publisher Pantheon.
The post ‘Final Cut’ Is a Melancholy Meditation On Identity, Moviemaking and Monsters [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.
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