Review by Karl Verhoven
With a TV show based on Criminal about to drop, Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips revisit characters used in previous stories via three connected paths in this bulky hardcover.
In a self-referential opening story cartoonist Jacob Kurtz is heading to Hollywood where work is to begin on adapting his surreal local newspaper strip for TV. Seen as a youngster in Bad Weekend his real dark moment came in Bad Night. Since then his career has taken off, but there’s been a breakdown along the way and Jacob sees the TV show as a second chance. Brubaker takes the opportunity to disgorge a few frustrations about dealing with TV companies as Jacob rapidly discovers he’s a spare wheel, and only time spent with his elderly Aunt Suzy has any value.
Jacob’s story spirals to a crisis point before the narrative switches to Angie, not seen since her childhood was crucial to the first Criminal story Lawless. Her relationship with bar owner Gnarly has changed, and she now needs to look out for him and find a lot of money very quickly for his treatment. Her circumstances also reach a crisis point, which is when she first meets Jacob.
Brubaker and Phillips have been collaborating on Criminal for over twenty years, but there’s little sign of burnout or boredom. If anything, long freed from monthly deadlines, Phillips now supplies locations with greater detail, and he’s masterful at pictures of ordinary people in ordinary situations. He must use visual reference, and he himself is frequently recognisable, but his people always look naturally posed and he’s able to draw them according to their personalities. Brubaker’s description of Angie is “She was only twenty-two, but she was harder than most fifty year olds…”, and that comes out in the way Angie is seen. She’s superficially young and attractive, but Phillips gives her expressions displaying a cautious, combative or world weary personality.
Brubaker’s narratives have always featured cleverly inserted connections, yet with The Knives he’s found gaps in previously un-related people’s lives enabling them to have an association. Several other characters from earlier stories are revisited, with one having a pivotal role toward the end, ultimately in surprising circumstances. Brubaker’s smart in avoiding narrative clichés others might resort to for a convenient ending, adding to the overall realism and underlining why his plots are a cut above almost any other crime-themed graphic novels.
The one mystery not solved until the afterword is the title’s significance, which perhaps doesn’t have the timbre Brubaker suggests, but does have the desirable sensational tone. It’s a small point. Who cares about the title with a story this good?
