Mr. 5 lives in a box. Where there are a bed, a bathroom, a tube to eat, a computer and a briefcase. Mr.
5 works in a box. Where there is a screen and two buttons. "Y" and "N". Mr.
5 moves from the first box the second box through a box. Mr.
5 live with a diving suit him.
Mr. 5 has not always lived this way, I understand, must have had parents, relatives, friends, love, whatever. But these are too much for him.
boxes are better. The atmosphere all around presage that is not the only one who made this decision. One day
strasporta the box that the box 1 to box 2 has a malfunction and Mr. 5 is located outside of these boxes.
So, more or less begins "Cockroach" the first opera written and drawn by Alberto Ponticelli. Edited by Bloom in a luxurious robe, neat, with a thin vein of Maranza spirit that can not fail. The size and choice of paper borrows from the Albert and his Akab Nixon, as a loving tribute.
The story unfolds in a sort of "1984" post-WHATEVER where there is no one, not even the Great Brother.
There are just boxes, silence, wild vegetation, tubes, pipes, concrete and splashes of ink. There is a story of love, something happens. But the beauty of this book is not there. Is not in the sequence of events or words. Is in the midst of all these things.
The story line, unquestionably, and is fun to read like watching a nice arrangement.
This book is beautiful. Very. And it is tragic. Ponticelli
choose to completely abandon the machines, colors and fragmentation of the board of Yankee school to which we had become accustomed. From pencil is nervous, broken, often explodes, it will unravel and is filled with debris. Gets on with watercolor, dirty water, splashing and effects digital. The result is chilling. Despite signs of gestures and a life spent on those boards are obvious as this remains frozen. In a random order and rationality that is sleek, cool and aloof. So the terrible world in which Mr. 5 moves has nothing to do with the worlds we have used the cartoon. Surpasses the cinema. The visual part of the comic strip itself becomes literature.
suggesting shapes and atmospheres Ponticelli creates an emotional impact is closer to that of some music. By the parties or of the Industrial Noise. That music that takes your breath and you feel in the stomach and the upper arms that are stretched. Just as the breath is missing in the icy walls and vertiginous perspectives, so abstract as to be unmistakably real. That's
Milan is 10 years. E 'Paris or Vienna or Barcelona. Or maybe it's time. Why do the trick here
allegory does not work. Nothing symbolizes anything.
Metaphors gnaw her skirt leaving her almost naked reality, the drawings and are more real than if they were photos.
More disturbing than if they were pictures of yourself.
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