I received a copy of the graphic novel Contraband from SLG yesterday– which I’d known was coming, but which I had forgotten about– courtesy of the writer, TJ Behe, who I interviewed a while back at comixology. I had previously skimmed about half of the book in a pdf preview, but with the physical book in hand I sat down this evening to give it a more thorough reading. Here then is my attempt at a review.
The first thing I have to say is that the pdf did not do the art justice. This is often the case– one big drawback to digital downloads of comics is that they are generally in pdf format, which is almost invariably of too low a resolution to get the details of the art on the page.
Design-wise, the book is a bit on the small side, considering how text-heavy it is (thanks to the talky characters– more on that later). It could easily be bumped up an inch or two on a side and still be a good size to hold in your hand, which might make the text a little easier to read. I also wonder about the decision not to print on glossy paper; I guess that, with the graphic novel being a standalone product, it’s more of a risk for SLG than, say, Rex Libris.
The story takes place in the near future, when mobile phones have become sophisticated enough to capture and play back high-resolution video (and, apparently, to both upload and download it in a live stream). Contraband, a channel specializing in videos depicting violence and criminal acts, has become extremely popular, and young people earn fees by posting popular content. Society seems to be on the verge of a breakdown– think A Clockwork Orange, but a few months before ultraviolence becomes commonplace.
Toby, an apparently hapless regular joe, tries to surreptitiously make a video of a couple of guys who turn out to be Tucker, who operates Contraband, and Plugger, who as a combination of muscular thug and brilliant programmer, serves as Tucker’s right-hand-man. When Toby is found out, Tucker bullies him into helping find Charlotte, who is working with Jarvis, an organizer trying to pass legislation to outlaw the sort of content that Contraband thrives on.
The artwork by Phil Elliott (with inks by Ian Sharman and gray tones by Cherie Donovan) has a cartoony feel that consciously focuses attention on the foreground image; faces of characters standing behind the speaker become progressively less detailed as they move farther back in the panel, while important moments are emphasized by a startling realism.
The overall style, with its general lack of detail, isn’t what I expect in a near-future, vaguely dystopian story. In fact, the art is largely responsible for the fact that the book doesn’t feel even slightly like science fiction. Aside from the fact that everyone is constantly sending huge video files via their mobiles, everything looks and feels like the present day. Considering that this is evidently meant to be the very near-term future– say, five or ten years from the present– the style works effectively.
The structure of the story makes it a complicated read. It takes place in three timelines, shifting back and forth at chapter breaks. A lot of details are left intentionally vague, or blank: Toby regularly sends people he’s encountered a video clip (unseen by the reader) which cheers them up; it was not until the third or fourth time this happened that it dawned on me that he must be sending each of them the same clip, and that the contents of the clip would probably be revealed at some point. Until I realized that I was frustrated each time Toby said to himself, “This’ll cheer her up.” Hey, maybe I’m just dense.
Behe has given the characters a tendency to pile on the descriptors in their dialogue– almost to the point where they’re delivering monologues. After discovering that Toby’s one claim to fame is having exposed a pedophile to the police, Tucker waxes poetic on why he doesn’t care: “Suppose I’d give a shit. You’re feeding me bollocks if I gave two shits about that fiddled little kid! He probably ended up a street person, some 24-year-old failed suicide victim in shabby sneakers, ripped hoodie with homemade neck and arm tattoos. Probably drones his god or parent-hating chants as he loops round and round the circle line. Ha! Mental hospitals should hand out hands-free headsets to all those muttering monkeys. At least it’ll look like the bloke’s talking to someone else!” His description of the patrons as he, Toby, and Plugger enter a nightclub: “A bunch of Ben Shermans cheering a lucky boy’s birthday with cider and Charlie. Horny hen-night honies keen to shag anything animal, vegetable and mineral. And even a few prowling thirty-five-plus sphinxes waiting patiently to pick off wrecked lads when the floor crowds up.”
These are pretty typical snatches of speech, found on every page and spoken by every character. That’s not a complaint; the dialogue is nicely written and entertaining, if unremittingly cynical. It does have the effect of making everyone sound like a philosopher, though. After abducting Toby, while driving him to an undisclosed location, Tucker and Plugger take the time for this discussion:
Plugger: Stop off at my gym first. I’ve left my ID card behind the counter.
Tucker: Gym! Goes without saying this meat bag’s a huge fitness addict, huh? I mean, look at this guy! Plugger, tell Toby why you hit the gym. You know, what you said to me last week. “Yo, it’s not about maintaining mass, or flushing out vicious hangovers, or squeezing out stress, or chatting up pseudo-preserved saggy-kneecapped divorced women, or looking at myself in the mirror. No, Tucker… I do it for the burn, for that lactic acid soaking in my muscles after each session. Helps remind me I’m still alive while slogging it out day in day out with you. It’s why my training’s kept at three sessions per week. If you get too ripped, that stinging acid doesn’t settle in there for me.” Well Holy Opus Dei! Hear that, Toby? A modern method of self-flagellation! Pretty good stuff, huh? You’ll find Plugger’s a surprisingly funny – and clever bloke. Since returning from the war, he’s hunted down some subsidies from the government. I still can’t believe they actually pay him to goof off at the fitness centre all day.
Plugger: As they should. Working out helps save government money. Keep in good shape, keep out of the hospital, politicians keep their hands out of taxpayers’ pockets. Actually they should charge people who don’t use gyms, so when pathetic life-long smokers like you end up on million-pound respirators for twelve years, they can use your cash to pay for it.
Ultimately, Contraband is about the media-rich world we live in, and is a deconstruction of a slightly exaggerated version of our desire to be both producers and consumers of content. Jarvis tells Toby, “…we live in a society no longer shocked by the paraphernalia of sexual or violent deviation, a society no longer aware of its reliance on mobile devices. Desperate to preserve their legacy, associate themselves with celebrity or generate big revenues, youths everywhere seek out opportunities to record unsuspecting citizens.”
In the world premised here, the medium has vanished from our perception, leaving only the message in its wake. The ubiquity of the technology of production, and the extreme ease of access to content, has validated everyone as producer/consumer. The downside is that with everyone uploading and downloading videos, a clip has to be sensational to get attention. This is not youtube, where ten thousand clips can have ten thousand views each and all be equally successful (and, for the producers, equally non-revenue-generating); on Contraband, there’s a cash reward if you get onto the short-list of most viewed vids. It’s not surprising that the owner of such a network, and the lead opposition trying to shut it down, would each take the time to philosophize on the relationship between people and the content they create.
The story comes together at the end, with some revelations that I was not entirely expecting. The complexity of the structure demands a second reading, and it will be interesting to see how knowing the ending changes my interpretations of the characters’ actions throughout, and whether a new depth of meaning is revealed.
