Comic of the Week: “FML” #3

Welcome to G33k-HQ’s comic of the week, where once every week (give or take, depending on our schedule) we look at one comic that came out this week. Whether it’s a new indie comic you shouldn’t miss, the latest crossover event from the Big 2, or just a personal favorite, we’ll take a look and share what’s great about it.

Join us for our first week (hopefully of many) as we look at “FML” #3, written by Kelly Sue DeConnick, illustrated by David López, and colored by Cris Peter.

Have you ever felt like we’re living in a modern dystopia, yet we still have to keep living our every day lives as though the world isn’t falling apart around us? That death and madness has become so mundane that we just accept it as normal, because we have no other choice but to try to make it through just in case things get better? “FML” captures that feeling succinctly, blending a dark slice of life with a bit of the supernatural into something that’s somehow painfully relatable.

To describe “FML” would take more time than most would care to read in a single review, because it’s not just one thing. It’s a comic about several lives, each with their own stories to tell, connected by friendship and family into a single narrative. “FML” is the story of a modern American family — a teenage boy, his heavy metal bandmates, his former punk rock star/now true crime obsessed suburban mother, and his goth sister. It’s the story about the awkwardness of growing up, of growing old, of change and being unable to escape the past. It holds a mirror to our world and tells us “this is where you are.”

When school announcements casually say “Our regular active shooter drill is postponed, and we’re monitoring the fires,” or a character is nearly crushed by a door falling off a passing by plane, we’re reminded that this is, in fact, our reality. Then, when a character transforms into a giant hairy creature, it’s treated with the same amount of gravitas — because when the world is already falling apart, what’s one more thing?

That brings us to issue 3, which puts a focus on Riley (the teenage boy turned furry monster) and his learning to cope with his new form while his band is preparing to perform as the opening act at a metal show. At the same time, his mother is trying to finish her true crime graphic novel, which she’s hoping will help solve an actual murder that happened to her friend, only to find that the killer may be a guest at the same true crime convention as her.

As the stories run parallel, we get glimpses into each of the characters’ heads that are oh so familiar. Riley reflects on adults constantly telling kids how “these are the best years of your life” and “it’s all downhill after this” while they’re dealing with the stress and drama of childhood. Patty, his mother, wonders how she became the stressed out mom that can’t find the keys in her own hand, accompanied by an impressive full-page panel reminding us of everything that’s gone crazy in our world over these past few years.

However, as a character-driven issue, it helps develop the entire cast. We get to spend more time with Riley’s friends and bandmates as they clash, support each other, and open up in surprising ways. It culminates in their performance with an unexpected but welcome twist… before the comic throws an even more unexpected twist at us at the end.

Now let’s talk about the artwork. David López provides the illustrations, with colors by Cris Peter, and their artwork complements DeConnick’s writing style wonderfully. Each panel is filled with detail and personality, with dramatic shifts and angles to add emphasis to each moment. López has a special knack for facial expressions, which can shift between exaggerated features and sharper details whenever needed for exactly the right dramatic effect, and carry the personalities through perfectly.

Occasionally the art style will shift to present internal asides or flashbacks. Riley’s middle school flashback is represented as sketches on lined school paper, while the “Teenspeak vs Mom Speak translations” imaginary sequence feature distinct designs for both Riley and Patty as they see themselves. It gets us inside the characters’ heads nicely and adds a distinct visual flare to “FML.”

But one of the most visually striking elements of the comic is Cris Peter’s color work. The background and overall color schemes shift based on both where the characters are physically and what’s going through their heads mentally and emotionally. When the characters step outside, the world is cast in orange and yellow (because, as is all too familiar to too many of us, the world is on fire).

Indoor shades of blue and green create a striking contrast with the orange tones, but once Riley hits a point of disappointment and despair, the world around him turns gray, save for the orange of the sky and red of his eyes. Then a friend brings in a golden shade that begins to spread to the rest of the world, connecting the issue visually with the Robert Frost poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay,” as many of us would have read in “The Outsiders” around Riley’s age.

So yes, visually, it’s pretty stunning too.

“FML” is a comic like no other. It captures the absurdity of the world we live in, builds up a gripping story and characters that manage to connect in ways we rarely see in comics. Somehow, a comic about a boy who wakes up as a big hairy creature is one of the most realistic, relatable comics on the market today.

As the world around us grows crazier (and things are certainly going to go that way soon), “FML” helps us keep perspective while drawing us in to a gripping and entirely unpredictable story.