Speak of the Devil

For a series produced by Gilbert Hernandez, Speak of The Devil arrived in stores with little fanfare - around the same time of the publication of Chance in Hell. Both works are based on the conceit that they are comic book adaptations of films that a certain Palomar character played a role in. While this meta-fictional layer is not required to understand the story, it can affect the readers' perception of the work. While Chance in Hell mimics more high-minded arthouse cinema, Speak of the Devil is more of a sleazy, exploitative noir thriller. Certainly the stark black and white aesthetic, the plot-driven story, the terrible dialogue, the supporting beatnik characters, the suburban anomie, the widescreen panels used as establishing shots suggest a movie from the 60s or 70s, despite some anachronistic details. The sexual fetishism depicted would have been perceived as rather explicit several decades ago, contrasted with the far more graphic violence, accurately portrays the conflicting, hypocritical, contemporary double standards towards censoring sex and violence.

A neighborhood peeping tom wearing a leering devil mask takes particular interest in watching the sexual antics of businessman Walter and his younger second wife Linda Castillo. At first concerned enough to report to the police after catching him peeping through their window, Linda's exhibitionist side later gets the better of her. The peeping tom is however Walter's teenage daughter from his first marriage Valentina, a talented competitive gymnast. Her own sexually unresponsive boyfriend Paul soon develops an interest in the peeping tom. Their mutual sexual obsessions lead the three down a dark path of murder and more illicit behavior.


There's not a whole lot to be said about the story without revealing more of the plot other than to say that all of main characters come to a tragic end. There's even a kind of twist ending to suggest the evil perpetuated by them continues on. For all the successful reproduction of film noir conventions, this is still a comic book created by one of medium's greatest living practitioners. Hernandez paces the story well and reveals the twists effectively through six-part pamphlet serialization. Needless to say his visuals are brilliant. While the constraints of space and the b-movie narrative limit the complexity of this work, his rough, cartoony, but evocative style captures the repressive atmosphere of the period and the disturbing sexuality the characters delve into. The black costume Valentina dons to conceal her feminine features is a nice visual effect. The unblinking eyes of the Devil mask, mirrored in the eyes of later murder victims, is particularly disturbing.


While Speak of the Devil is fairly straightforward in serving-up its sex and violence, something a bit more emotionally ambiguous and lyrical emerges as the characters come closer to their inevitable doom. For all the perversity perpetuated by Valentina and her cohorts, this is still a story about young people caught-up in powerful emotions they don't quiet understand, and ultimately undone by them.