Page 45 Review by Jonathan
Odd how literally just one solitary thing you read can totally alter your perception of someone. I am a big Jodorowsky fan, with works like THE INCAL and MADWOMAN OF THE SACRED HEART how could one not be? But the combination of his 2010-penned foreword for this work, plus some of the actual content, have in fact me now re-appraising him somewhat. I won’t repeat it all verbatim here, but basically upon meeting Gal (the artist of this work) quite by chance at the offices of Metal Hurlant and Gal asking him if he could illustrate one of his stories, Jodorowsky first tells us that the meeting was so moving he “didn’t see the physical body in which his spirit dwelled. For me, Gal was an immaterial being. Even today, I still cannot recall what he looked like.”
Unfortunately he then rather makes a stupendous arse of himself, in my book at least, by telling Gal that he illustrates with “superhuman perfection” yet doesn’t feel they could work together unless Gal used colour. Gal, of course, being famous for only ever using India ink. Jodorowsky doesn’t quite put it like that though... “Your drawing speciality has always been India ink... I don’t want to ask for the same thing. However, if you shift gears and do something that you have never done before – express yourself with colours – then I would feel like I was participating in the awakening of a new facet of your talent. I believe that in the field of Art, there are two roads to take: you can be the best or you can be... different. You are already one of the best. When the day comes that you are ready to be different, I will be at your disposition.”
Surprisingly enough, Gal didn’t suggest Jodorowsky insert a baguette where the sun doesn’t shine but instead, six months later, presumably when he’d calmed down a bit, gave Jodorowsky a call on the phone. Here’s how Jodorowsky remembers that particular call... “Six months later, I heard his voice on the phone, but I didn’t recognise the tone. For me, Gal was an ethereal myth. It seemed as if I heard him not with my ears but rather by telepathy.”
Hmm, for me Jodorowsky is in serious danger of becoming a comedy sketch show character... Or perhaps in need of a fitting for one of those jackets with lots of shiny buckles on the back...
Anyway, onto the work itself. The art is beautiful actually, some of the finest ligne claire you are ever likely to lay your eyes on, and Gal’s use of colours is as one would expect of someone of his talent, absolutely breathtaking, but despite this apparently being a story of spiritually transcendence etc. etc. I found it just a weeny bit too sleazy in places. Yes, I know that is not untypical for this genre, but, well, it certainly isn’t Jodorowsky’s finest work for me. I really do much prefer his farcical material to his ‘serious’ stuff, I must say. Anyway, fans of Euro-titties will certainly approve.
If anyone knows of a similarly egomaniacal / delusional / just plain mentally ill foreword to a graphic novel please do let me know.
