Ether #1

Story: Matt Kindt
Art: David Rubin
Variant Cover: Jeff Lemire

Coming on the heels of Marvel Studios’ Doctor Strange movie, the completely unrelated Ether promises the reader yet another magical romp through a multiverse populated by odd beings and even odder technologies. This is exactly the kind of comic book series one would expect from author Matt Kindt, known for being the creator of the hyper intricate ur-conspiracy Mind MGMT and the ongoing undersea murder mystery Dept H. But the comic displays a lighthearted approach not usually found in his past works. This owes a lot to Kindt’s artistic collaborator David Rubin. It’s only during the last few pages that the comic transitions into something more recognizably like Kindt when the atmosphere becomes more oppressive and terrifying.

Rubin’s art resembles that of Rafael Grampá, and that quality of cartoonish exaggeration is essential to the comic’s world-building. The first alien encountered is a gruff, giant purple ape-like creature called Glum, the self-described gatekeeper to the alternate worlds of the multiverse. Other weird denizens include the Bloody Screecher, a bird resembling a canary that wears an unsettling, toothy grin. Or the Magic Bullet, a projectile that resembles an unborn fetus. While Rubin doesn’t spend nearly enough time exploring the streets of Agartha, the capital city of the magical world known as Ether, his bathing the setting in an otherworldly combination of vibrant ruby, emerald and cerulean hues is charming enough.

But the true oddball in this place is Earthling and main protagonist Boone Dias, who dresses like a more dashing Ghostbuster and whose personality could be described as a mix of Egon Spengler, Sherlock Holmes, and Indiana Jones. Boone discovered the Ether years ago and has since refashioned himself as the mighty explorer of an exotic new world. He’s apt to use adjectives like “beautiful” and “fascinating” when describing the wonders of the Ether. And like so many white males before him, he’s more than a little condescending towards the natives and what are to him their backward superstitions. Nonetheless, the rulers of Agartha admire his rigorous scientific mind, and he’s been often called upon by them to solve various crimes. Boone has even cultivated a rivalry with a would-be Moriarity figure whom he grandiosely describes as his most dangerous adversary.

And the Ether isn’t half as interesting as the opulent detail found in the comic’s twist ending. Rubin’s illustration of present-day Earth makes it into a dystopian nightmare. And even Boone himself reacts by seeming to shrink in stature. But the reader has only seen the world through his eyes. How much of his experience is real or imagined? Or the product of evil machinations of yet-unseen parties? Kindt has set up another twisted puzzle for us to untangle.

Mind MGMT #8-12

Created by Matt Kindt.

No one could ever accuse Mind MGMT of being easy reading. Its first story arc “The Manager” took full advantage of the comic book format to simultaneously present multiple streams of information. Every piece of real estate is crammed with data: The covers, margins, even the marks on the pages. Needless to say, the story benefits from a multiple careful readings and a willingness to find hidden patterns in all the visual cacophony. Add to that, there’s the cruel irony in returning its protagonist Meru back to square one at the end of the arc, wiping all her memories of the events. “The Futurist” is no less dense a narrative. It’s primary advantage is that to the reader who’s made the effort, this second arc is made easier by being an extension of the first, expanding on the information already gleamed and moving the story forward with new revelations and characters. Both form into one huge chunk of a story, and a more rewarding experience than most of the conspiracy-laden serials that have lately become popular television fare.

At the heart of Mind MGMT is Meru. While she started out investigating “Amnesia Flight #815,” which led to her uncovering the activities of the clandestine Mind MGMT and its top agent Henry Lyme, the comic kept dropping hints that Meru herself has a mysterious past and vast untapped psychic abilities. Much of the dramatic tension comes from the fact that she’s largely dependent on Henry to find the answers but the reader is already aware that he is not to be trusted. As the two set about gathering the ragtag crew of former agents (see my review of #7), it becomes apparent that his former colleagues don’t completely trust him either. Nonetheless, they end up forming a kind of substitute family to Meru, particularly the world-weary Duncan, the titular futurist. His codename comes from his ability to instantaneously read the minds of those around him for up to a 15 mile radius, which has the effect of allowing him to perfectly foresee all their short-term future actions. For Duncan, this clairvoyance has made his life and relationships dull and predictable. The character was introduced way back in the first issue, but now provides a skeptical counterpoint to Henry’s manipulations. When the comic presents his unhappy backstory, his thoughts and impressions are cataloged on the side of the pages next to the panels instead of integrated into the image, unlike in most comic books.

But what occupies the margins in the earlier chapters are excerpts from Meru’s true-crime book “Premeditated,” which tells the story of a woman named Julianne Verve who murdered her husband and two children. The words in the book uncannily mirror the actions in the panels. And as Meru’s quest progresses, this interaction makes increasingly evident that her personal connection to Mind MGMT predates her own investigation of it. But since so much text is strangely not incorporated into the panels as captions but pasted on the side, the overall effect is not that of a work created by a singular vision but an assemblage of story clippings pasted together. This impression is further compounded by the treatment of the comic pages themselves. As with The Manager, the pages in The Futurist draw attention to the use of the  comic book format by employing blue border markings similar to those found in illustration boards. A few pages have been torn out while others have been mysteriously redacted. The comic itself is an imperfect document - incomplete, heavily edited, and an unreliable record of events. Much like the works fashioned by Mind MGMT's powerful psychics.

Even though Mind MGMT seems to relish drowning the reader in a mass of information, the plot as narrated within the comic proper is actually very propulsive - an exciting globe-trotting adventure that takes its cast from around the United States to North Africa, to the legendary Shangri-la -  Mind MGMT’s secret headquarters hidden amongst snow-capped peaks. And for those with enough patience, the payoff answers a few questions about Meru, which finally has her stepping out of Henry Lyme’s shadow.

MIND MGMT #7

By Matt Kindt

Conspiracy theories are a perennial favorite with writers. There's something clever and intensely satisfying about finding hidden connections between random and unrelated events. And people like to feel being initiated into some great secret. Matt Kindt's series MIND MGMT provides a geeky twist to the concept with its titular equivalent of the Bavarian Illuminati as a government-run organization made up of superhumans who possess vast psychic abilities, which they use to secretly manipulate everyone. In the first six issues, true crime writer Meru investigated the mystery of an airline flight were everyone onboard suddenly came down with a case of amnesia. Her research leads to her uncovering the clandestine activities of MIND MGMT. Following a trail of clues that takes her from Mexico to China while being pursued by a pair of immortal assassins, she finally confronts Henry Lyme, formerly MIND MGMT's greatest agent. But even as she learns of the organization's secrets and her own shocking connection to it, Henry wipes her memories - perhaps not for the first time. Meru wakes up in her apartment a few days later, with no recollection other than the nagging sense of having forgotten something of great consequence.

Having brought Meru back to square one, Matt could have started over with a new cast in order to explore the series' premise from a different angle. However the next arc begins right were the last one left off. As Meru's wracking her brains trying to remember what happened to her, someone drops of a letter into her mailbox. Because it happens on a Sunday, she's immediately suspicious. She tracks the letter to its source. Unlike before, Meru finds the culprit relatively quickly. She runs into Henry, who's been keeping tabs on her. And we're introduced to a new agent called Brinks, who specializes as an "Ad Man". Brinks has the ability to psychically endow images and symbols with powerful thoughts and emotions, making him the perfect tool to hide subliminal messages within print ads, illustrations, etc. Meru's interactions with the two bring her up to speed. And with that, she and Henry go off to uncover more former agents. Lending urgency to the new quest is a dangerous rival faction who has the same idea, but is trying to accomplish a different agenda.

Adding to the main plot are the various devices used to layer the story. Placed at the comic pages' bottom margin is a detailed explanation about how the Ad Men invented "assassination letters" to eliminate their targets. The left-hand margins are occupied by text that may have come from one of Meru's books, which conveys the backstory of a woman who murdered her husband and two children. There's the usual "Mind Memo" section highlighting the careers of individual MIND MGMT agents. And then there's the back cover which reproduces a MIND MGMT questionnaire answered by Brinks. Some of the material obviously references the events in the issue, while others are more obscure. But it also creates the impression that one is viewing a secret dossier combined with a comic book, and this devotion to obsessiveness invites even more speculation about the significance of every last detail.

Then there's Matt Kindt's impressionistic artwork. At first glance it seems a strange fit for a conspiracy-laden thriller. But his flat cartoon characters inked with thick brushstrokes and painted over with watercolor washes imbues the whole narrative with an odd hallucinatory quality. It's almost as if one we're peering into a child's nightmare. Reality and fantasy meld into one another, making it harder to spot MIND MGMT's handiwork. People's blank expressions become vaguely threatening within the context of the story. And seemingly innocuous details acquire an element of hidden danger. This is because you can never be sure if you're being manipulated by the Ad Men. When Meru approaches Brinks' secret headquarters, she suddenly runs into several massive street signs in Times Square, illustrated within one of the comic's larger panels. They seem like typical ad copy, but they look unsettling nonetheless. And Brinks confirms later that they're meant to function as impenetrable psychic defenses. Brinks also confesses his role in destabilizing several foreign governments, and name drops the EDSA Revolution. Given that this particular event was well-documented by the press as a largely peaceful, populist movement (I should know), it's remarkable when the true events hidden from the media are portrayed in another large panel as a violent mob subconsciously driven mad by Brinks' own iconography. Now that's just paranoid!

And there's the rub. Meru is on an adventure with the very person who may have been responsible for repeatedly fucking with her fragile psyche. Henry promises that her life will become better if he follows him. And for all we know, he might be truly sincere. But given what he's done in the past, that's a little hard to blindly accept. What's the popular expression again? Oh yeah… Trust no one.