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Blutch, So Long, Silver Screen

"Don’t count on me going on about how the rain falls in Claude Sautet films, the windshield wipers that squeak and the leave the windshield blurry…Or about the breeze in the sea—the damp locks of Yves Montand, beet-red from the sun…Schneider’s smooth yellow brow."


"No more than I would about Piccoli, chest brushy with herbaceous growth, Piccoli springing up like a virgin wood…"

And oh man the way that red pops like hell behind almost violent brush strokes.  No goddamn gradients here folks.  I also dig that at various points the shadows move around a character’s face—like the strength of their words or passion changes the light of the room.  It also creates an incredible isolation in that fourth panel on the second page—where the main dude is almost calling up out from an abyss he’s falling back through.  And then the textures of Blutch’s brush work.  The shadows on Cordelia’s face on the top two panels from the first page.  The way he’s done the folds of the bed.  *swoon*
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