Review by Ian Keogh

Three schoolfriends start a band, but a year later one of them is dead and the other two haven’t seen each other since. On the anniversary of their friend’s death they take a trip back to their old hangout. One of them has continued playing music while the other hasn’t been able to. Disconnect is both the name of the band and the signifier of how things have become since the loss.

This is an emotionally strong story that could have been told conventionally and made its points, but Magnus Merklin instead opts for experimentation. The cast are aggregations of simple shapes with faces, yet very expressive in those terms in what’s largely sketchy black and white art. Merklin restricts an inventive use of colour for moments of coming alive, but that’s not the only experiment. When was the last time you saw letratone (or digital equivalent) used for shading outside an Eddie Campbell book? Merklin surrounds the characters with musical effects, and the weather’s poor as well, so Merklin locations are characterised by raindrops, puddles and the reflections in them. It adds atmosphere in more than the obvious sense.

Given the starting circumstances, Disconnect is an exploration of both past and present, and at heart it’s a very simple story asking the question of whether disconnect is permanent. Has time ensured the gulf between two friends is now irreparable? Merkin explores this extremely sympathetically, complete with awkward moments, the reticent friend looking for anything to fight off the other’s enthusiasm.

As the title tells us, there are some things that need to be said, and they hang over Disconnect until the words are spoken. Will the storm break when they are?

Well observed, uniquely drawn and given room to breathe, Disconnect confronts the pain of loss head on to teach some lessons about life.