Hey Look At This Comic: K6BD Chapter 5 Page 162
Kill Six Billion Demons! This is a pretty widely known webcomic so I won't go through too lengthy of an overview here. Over the top martial arts saga in a setting that's a bit anime, a bit wuxia, and a bit Wayne Barlowe. I'm not really going Hey Look At This Comic to draw your attention to something that I think is already pretty widely known, but to zero in on this one very recent page:
So what we've got is a page composition with a central square, bracketed at top and bottom by panels that take up their whole strip. It's a nice composition that opens with the swing of a giant flaming axe, and ends with the impact of a kick to the face of the story's hero Alison--not literally beginning and completing a single action, but completing a kind of action bracketing, an Initial and a Release to use Neil Cohn's terminology. Which leaves this big central stretch for a kind of notional peak, the climax of the comic.
Here's where it gets weird. Comics theory has tended toward a certain linearity of approach, moving across strips one panel after another. This page... does not do that. In fact there's not really a way, I don't think, to simply read through it once, or at least I don't think you're that likely to simply find the path on your first try. Here's my sense of how you might pass through the page:
Now, the speech bubbles do a pretty good job of leading through this whole sequence, though there's some ambiguity I think in where to start: with "why?" or with "you!" One is more to the left... but one is higher up on the page and in the path of the eye if you're sweeping from the bubble "Disappear!" over to the left. So I have to do some contextual reconstruction here of the actual speaking order, shuffling the speech bubbles around in my brain to follow the flow of the conversation. When I do, I see that we're actually bouncing back and forth in... a kind of conventional path, though an obscured one, going left to right in strips.
But this requires us to completely ignore the signals from the GUTTERS on the page, which suggest a very different action:
Which sees us reading through the same action twice. I think that's an intuitive way of understanding the panel language here, one continuous panel on the left and then a vertical arrangement of three on the right. And actually, it has its benefits: it turns the left side into a continuous series of movements, two swings and misses that prolong the action, and then the final peak action (a boot to the face). It's dynamic and exciting, and the lack of borders helps it to feel like a whole surge of action. Then on the right side, we have this great back and forth between our bondage battle nun and Alison, flipping back and forth between one and the other before culminating in the final panel where Alison is kicked down.
But that's pretty strange, right? Those are two reading orders that cover the exact same action. We can read it twice that way because it... appears twice on the page: once in zoomed out fluid action, and once in ultra close up, teeth-clenched, snarling fury. Even in the "correct" order, if we think of panels as time-in-space, it's clear something's gone very wrong: Alison takes a foot to the head in not one panel but two.
I've expressed before that I don't think confusing reading orders are a mistake, so much as an interesting place for the reader to engage with the work. And actually, I've shown off something like the time games here before, with the weird action/impact lag in Chainsaw Man, where the action can feel faster and more disturbingly inhuman because the reader has to reconstruct events after the fact. Comicker Abbadon here employs a kind of split screen effect, the action happening simultaneously in two vertical strips, which I think actually helps clarify both the action and emotion. Like, yeah, this composition invites or even demands multiple scans of the page and braiding between moments to articulate, and if you're coming from a school where action should be as frictionlessly legible for the reader as possible, that might read as an error.
But IS there a better way to make everything frictionlessly legible here? Both the combat that involves a meteoric fall and fight in midair, and the fury of the two characters, are significant to this moment, when a climactic battle turns decisively toward tragedy and ruin. If anything, the simultaneous panels permit us to better comprehend how everything comes catastrophically apart. (The next few pages are also laid out in a way that emphasizes the frozen horror of a series of further catastrophic blows for the story's heroes.) Abbadon underscores the significance of the moment by giving us all the information and inviting us--like Fujomoto--to stare at the ruin and piece back together how things got- this bad.
Of course, there's one other aspect to this that can't be overlooked: it's gorgeous, and cool as hell. This is a comic about taking gruesome world-shaking combat and making all its gore and horror aesthetically captivating. The sweep down the page, emphasizing our number 1 battle nun's drive to crush Alison, counterpoised with the kind of visual rhyme scheme of the right hand path, back and forth between the two characters, the bracketing of the action at the top and bottom, one movement following another... it's just great to look at! That's justification enough to halt the reader here and say hey, take a moment to really appreciate these muscular women wailing on each other.
I do appreciate it, Abbadon. I really, really do.
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