So, I kept hearing about how good Jeff Lemire is at writing comic books. Specifically, those who hyped up his work to me were talking about his book called Descender. So I flipped through the trade paper back of Descender at the Vault of Midnight. I must say, as deplorable as it may seem to some, the artwork does factor into my decision when choosing to pick of a book or not. Of course I am not suggesting that Dustin Nguyen’s art was bad, because if anything, it is stellar. But something did not feel right to me. It just did not pull me in. Also, I think I left that book on the shelf because I was all sci-fied out at the time. By “at the time”, I mean like, last week.

But I figured that there must be something else that Lemire wrote. There is no way that Descender was his breakout book. Turns out he did some books for DC, Marvel, Vertigo, and Valiant…basically…every other major publisher besides Image. Call me closed minded, but I was not ready to venture outside of Image, especially not into the daunting cluster fuck of a world that is DC and Marvel.

That is when I found Plutona, a new series co-created by Lemire and Emi Lenox, the latter of whom did the art. Lets just cut the story short and just say I dug the art and picked it up right away. Whenever I see an artist capture nuanced emotion in each panel, I just sit back in awe. These are the artists that really know how to observe people. The colors by Jordie Bellaire also contribute to the book by creating a light atmosphere that at once makes you happy, but also creates dread. Something is wrong and the art makes you feel it. A subtle uneasiness.

Of course you know something is wrong from the very beginning. But that is not what I am talking about. On that note, let me talk about the story. Lemire knows that this story is not about the dead superhero, it is about the five children that find her dead body lying in the middle of a vast forest. The world does not overshadow the characters, in other words, these characters just happen to be in a world where super heroes exist. A compelling character can be placed in any setting and they will remain true. Believe me, the characters are very compelling. Sure there may be some archetypes, reminding me of the experience of watching Goonies or The Breakfast Club, but there is an ambiguity about their characterization that makes you wonder which direction they will go.

This does beg the question though, how important is it for super heroes to exist in this book? I am not sure if I can answer the question at this moment because I have only read the first issue. But I do think the book itself is suggesting an answer starting from its debut. Plutona, the superhero, is seen dead from the first page. But the way Lenox draws the panels makes her body feel like an object, using various angles to observe specific parts of her body, never forgetting to include flies to suggest the time that has gone by. Plutona is established as if she is an inanimate object, the way some manga establish a house, with various angles. Then the next page is a view of the vast forest, where presumably, the body is. Superheroes may exist in this world, but they are far removed from our characters. The one character that has any proximity to them from the start, only knows about their activity through the radio and the Internet. He is also seen looking at the city through binoculars while keeping a log of any superhero sightings. Then there is another character that shows some interest about superheroes but other than that, nobody else seems to care.

This gives Lemire space to build the characters that are important, the kids. He puts Plutona in the background from the beginning – which in itself is genius, because like I said about the art, by having the knowledge of the dead superhero at the back of your head, it constantly nags at you as you find out about the kids. I think it is important that this book has superheroes in it, because the story is setting up a world that mirrors our own. What are superheroes to us? Sure they do not exist in our world, but at the same time they do. We read about them, we consume them. Lemire has a little vignette at the end of the book (That features a different art style. I believe he did the art for it) where he gives a little backstory on Plutona. It feels distant, almost foreign, like it does not belong. But at the same time, it demands to be seen, it demands to emerge into the foreground.

Ya, I see what the hype is about now. Lemire knows how to write and I do see myself picking up Descender sometime in the future (haha…future…cause it is a sci-fi book…never mind).

There were multiple times throughout “Welcome to Me” where I saw a glimmer of potential. It’s a film about Alice (Kristen Wiig), a woman with borderline personality disorder, and due to stigmatization, accurate portrayals of mental illness (especially for women) are few and far between in Hollywood. These are stories that should be told, not just as melodrama, not just as horror, not just as comedy, but as all of those genres and more. So the attempted comedy-drama blending of the movie is admirable in its intentions.

The idea could be great if it was executed by a great screenwriter and a great director with a unified, purposeful vision. The movie is going for a kind of tragicomic vibe that allows the audience to laugh at Alice while still leaving room to take her illness and her challenges seriously. I can think of multiple movies that have done this pretty well: “Silver Linings Playbook,” “The Skeleton Twins,” “Frank,” “Lars and the Real Girl,” hell, even “American Psycho.” I’m sure all of those have gotten flack for simplifying mental illness and for fitting it into a neat Hollywood-friendly bundle, and I’m sure some people would even say that “Welcome to Me” is a more daring movie than those because it’s willing to be weird as hell, to go to dark and unexpected places.

So yes, I commend director Shira Piven and writer Eliot Laurence’s willingness to just take risks and be weird. That said, for a comedy to work about mental illness, it has to be funny. This is where I’ll probably differ with lots of people who have seen the movie, because humor is subjective, but I wasn’t laughing much while watching. I did giggle a little at the sheer outrageousness of some parts, like when I realized that Alice was legitimately going to neuter dogs during her talk show. Unfortunately, though, most of Alice’s characterization makes her seem just like one of Kristen Wiig’s SNL characters with weird quirks. I admittedly don’t know much about BPD, but I kind of doubt it’s like this, and besides, most of these quirks aren’t as funny as Wiig’s usual quirks.

Back to my original point, though: “Welcome to Me” really struggles to figure out this strange tone. We’re supposed to gently laugh at Alice despite deeply caring for her, but many of the scenes seem to beg us just to tease her. How much of the movie is supposed to be genuine and how much ironic? For example, are we supposed to be deeply invested in her romance with Gabe (Wes Bentley)? Is her having sex with Gabe supposed to be sweet, or is it some sort of joke? Is the romance in general genuine, or a punchline? The movie tries to have it both ways, and I think people who like it would simply say “it is what it is.” We can laugh at it while still being invested in it. My answer to that is the same as the question of the film’s sense of humor in general, though: we can’t have it both ways, because the romance works as neither a funny punchline nor a heartfelt emotional connection. For me, anyway.

I saw another big glimmer of potential during the climax, when Alice’s family and best friend Gina (Linda Cardellini) show up for the final broadcast of her show. I can imagine a movie where this was a genuinely touching ending, especially because I was wrapped up in the sheer lunacy of it all, with all the characters gathered at the final live taping of this weird sensory assault of a talk show. But the emotional crux of the climax involves Alice apologizing to Gina for ignoring her when she really needed it, for being so selfish and worrying about her own problems and her own show.

Tell me, Eliot Laurence and Shira Piven, WHY WASN’T THIS THE MAIN ARC OF THE STORY? This movie could’ve been so good if it explored the potential for selfishness on the part of victims of mental illness—obviously Alice’s egotism is a result of her disorder and Gina should cut her some more slack than she would most friends, but Gina’s still right to be angry at Alice, and if this had been emphasized throughout the movie, it could’ve had such a powerful impact. In fact, this movie could’ve been fascinating if it focused on Gina instead, following her as she struggles with life and can’t reach out to her own best friend because her best friend is obsessed with her newfound wealth and trying to use it to fix herself. One of the opening scenes, with Gina telling someone on the phone that Alice needs her, even raises this possibility. But no, the wonderful Linda Cardellini is in only a few scenes, and her character (and friendship with Alice) is woefully underdeveloped as a result.

“Welcome to Me” is a movie that I admire for what it’s trying to do. But what “Frank” has that this movie doesn’t have is 1. a lot of good jokes, 2. a genuinely moving conclusion, 3. a serious critique of society’s perceptions of mental illness, and, generally, 4. a lot better writing. It’s interesting to see these filmmakers grapple with these ideas and try to produce something strange and new, but I’m more intrigued to see what Piven and Laurence do next.