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I'm back to discussing "serious" comics (today they call them Graphic Novels but the essence is the same) and particularly about this “Mort Cinder. Lead Eyes” (in reality, the original edition was titled just "Men with Lead Eyes" but oh well, what's the point of paying a frustrated title writer if they can't even add their touch?!…), the first volume of a series of 9 also recently republished in a premium edition.
Mort Cinder is a short series released in the early 60s, by the visionary talent of Héctor G. Oesterheld, already a cult author of “The Eternaut” (killed by the Argentine military regime of those years) and the drawings/murals of another genius of the brush named Alberto Breccia (now also dead since '93 but of old age - lucky him!).
Mort Cinder is in every way a graphic-literary work full of references to Poe, Kafka, and the expressionist cinema of Fritz Lang or Orson Wells, displayed in Breccia's meticulous attention to lighting and breathtaking framings scattered throughout the story, significantly enriching its dramatic staging.
A visionary nightmare story, scripted like a true noir that at times descends into horror, telling the tale of a meek and cowardly little man (Ezra Winston, which Breccia used as inspiration by creating a sort of older version of himself!) who, despite his will, becomes a hero to conceal the sensational discovery of a man neither dead nor alive (Mort Cinder) who has lived for thousands of years, escaping capture over the centuries by mysterious men with lead eyes (hence the title).
The plot is quite simple but the most interesting part is the narrative structure seen from the perspective of the old protagonist who (especially in the first part) shares his phobias and deepest anxieties, sometimes veering into passages worthy of an applied psychoanalysis textbook.
A comic that constantly transitions from action to psychological introspection and is masterfully supported by Breccia's pictorial and refined hand in his paintings, a debated master of legendary black and white who has inspired a whole generation of artists including the acclaimed Frank Miller.
A decidedly “ahead” work that occasionally gets carried away by the taste for framing and truly unbeatable cuts of light and shadow (at the expense of a sometimes verbose and didactic script, as was the style in those years) which enhance its allure, making it decidedly obsessive and in some ways “satanic.”
A “cursed” work to be read in one sitting, perhaps on a full moon night, by candlelight, sitting on an old creaking rocking chair. Even better, if you are in a chalet immersed in the woods, away from everything and everyone…. And sweet dreams (if you can have any!).
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