The success of the Netflix miniseries “Corpses” (“Bodies”) has allowed something to happen that seemed almost impossible and that, at the same time, was almost inexplicable: that the comic on which it is based is finally published in Spain. Which we can congratulate ourselves on, because it is an excellent work, perhaps the last jewel of the legendary Vertigo label, (the “home” of “100 replies”, “Sandman”, “Preacher”, “And, the last man” o “Scalped”) which, after a long period of decline, closed in 2020. It is also by far the best comic written by the late British screenwriter Si Spencer, who died in 2021 without ever seeing that his “graphic novel” – originally published in eight installments between 2014 and 2015 – was acclaimed and reissued thanks to the magic of streaming. At least, those responsible for the series had the good taste to dedicate the first episode to him.
Both the series and the comic are set in London in four different historical moments in which four detectives investigate the same murder: that of a naked man found in an alley in Whitechapel (yes, the same neighborhood where Jack practiced his bad arts). the ripper, in what seems a nod to both the city’s criminal history and to “From Hell”the masterpiece of Alan Moore, with which it has certain similarities). However, when it comes to taking us to the different periods in which it takes place, the comic does much better. “Corpses”, the television series, is shot with that kind of impersonal correctness typical of Netflix products, which makes them so curiously interchangeable; On the contrary, Spencer had four wonderful illustrators, who alternate every six pages to give genuine personality to the four narrative threads.
The Victorian London of 1890 corresponds to Deam Ormston, and there we find Edmond Hilinghead, a policeman tormented by his sexual condition, since he is gay at a time when, if known, it could have dire consequences; the London of “Blitz”, when the British capital was the target of incessant Nazi bombings, is plotted by Phil Winslade, and we have as protagonist Karl Whiteman, a shady and corrupt individual with strong ties to the city’s underworld, and who hides many secrets about his past; Meghan Hetrick takes care of the pre-Brexit and pre-COVID London of 2014, and here we have Shahara Hasan, a detective of Pakistani origin who tries to establish a balance between her heritage, her religion (as she is Muslim) and her work in a Great Britain where nationalism has awakened to point to emigrants as scapegoats; and finally, in the most dreamlike and convoluted part, Tula Lotay draws the London of 2050, a post-apocalytic city where things have gone very wrong, in which our last detective, Maplewood, moves at a moment in which that even intimate thoughts are watched by a tyrannical government. Colorist Lee Loughridge also does a brilliant job of giving each setting its own visual identity.
The four detectives are, for different reasons, outsiders, characters in which different identities coexist, and, at the same time, they feel genuinely Londoners. They face a case that surpasses them, but, each in their own way, they try to persevere and solve it. And also, in a way, they succeed. The solution to the mystery is quite different from that of the series. Let’s say that, while the Netflix production opted for a science-fiction trope, Spencer was faithful to the Vertigo label, whose signature works belonged to noir, fantasy and horror. Which, on the other hand, is an incentive for readers who want to approach this work: from the same premise, two stories have been created that end up reaching places very distant from each other and that, in both cases, deserve the sorrow.