Pride and Prejudice and comic books seem to belong to two separate universes: one’s high tea with scones and clotted cream, the other’s hot buttered popcorn; one’s a hike through the Cotswolds, while the other’s a snowboard ride down a slope with plenty of moguls. But now, the two worlds have collided: There’s a P&P comic book, and geek girls everywhere can rejoice.
In this odd mashup, the Austen genes prove dominant. It’s definitely more of an illustrated P&P than an action-packed spectacle. Writer Nancy Butler faithfully adapts Austen’s words, and takes most of her dialogue verbatim from the novel. Readers looking for something more along the lines of the X-men may find it stodgy, but Austen fans will heartily approve.
The character design follows the 2005 version of the film: Lizzie bears a distinct resemblance to Keira Knightley, Jane to Rosamund Pike, and Darcy to Matthew Macfadyen (yawn), not Colin Firth. Wickham even sports a long blonde ponytail like he does in that movie. I would have liked to have seen more originality in the look of the characters.
The artist, Hugo Petrus, is skilled at capturing subtle facial expressions: anger, contempt, regret, and awakening love shine in his Lizzie and Darcy’s eyes. He’s also good at drapery, delicately hinting at the forms beneath those flowing Empire-waisted gowns. Parts of his characters are sometimes out of proportion, though: their arms can look distractingly emaciated and their hands too small.
The palette of the comic is lovely, all faded Venetian golds and yellow-greens and burgundies.
The covers are also fun: the first three of them are parodies of fashion magazines bearing such headlines as “Bingleys Bring Bling to Britain,” “Army Boys: 34 Reasons We Love Them (Other Than the Uniform),” and “Spring’s Randiest Ribbons.”
Also amusing are advertisers’ attempts to reach the P&P-goes-Marvel audience. Somehow I doubt that Janeites are going to become potheads or join the Navy (though we do like our cute cars, and the single gals will be glad the comic’s Got Hugh). But the worst ads have to be the ones that will convince women to stay far, far away from any comic book that doesn’t feature Mr. Bingley and the Bennet clan: I’m talking about the ones featuring “heroines” with boobs the size of their heads. Most offensive are the Marvel Divas, whose skintight uniforms suggest they were designed for (and possibly by) hormonal 13-year-old boys. The description on the Marvel site for this series reads:
The Marvel Divas. They’d fight crime, if they weren’t so busy posing.
“What happens when you take four of the Marvel Universe’s most fabulous single girls and throw them together, adding liberal amounts of suds and drama? You get the sassiest, sexiest, soapiest series to come out of the House of Ideas since Millie the Model! Romance, action, ex-boyfriends, and a last page that changes everything! Let your inner divas out with this one, fellas, you won’t regret it! Parental Advisory.” Suds and drama? Oooh, maybe they’ll get into a pillow fight!
Blech. I’ll stick with P&P, where “sexy” means a romance between a smart, witty woman and a tormented lord in tight breeches, and not four pouting minxes in latex.
