The composition is brilliant. Tightly contained, all attention is focused on the flaming Chinese warplane. All lines seek to converge on it. Nothing is superfluous. That frogman on the left doesn’t really need to point out the impending and rather inevitable disaster to us, or his compatriots, but it serves to direct attention. A helpless gesture, it’s passive in its alarm and with the equally passive boom of the warship, frames the wreckage to enclose us within that space. Between them, instead of raising alarm and drawing us in, all similarly straight lines push back against the event.
The point of the boom, apparently unimportant, is covered by the title, directing us straight to the hook holding the mine. The end of the hook mimics the mine’s spikes, a second focal point for us. In contrast to the frogman’s outstretched arm, the spikes are aggressively defensive, like razor wire. All those that we can see are extended towards the plane. Few point to the frogmen. The warning, symbolically, is for the plane as if it were about to impale itself.
Conversely, the spikes are meant to create disaster, more dangerous to passing ships and a greater potential for detonation. The frogmen are clustered around an object of dual identities: target and defensive weapon, which wouldn’t be so if the mine were left in its native environment. Conflict is generated not solely through explosive power, but through fundamentally opposite characteristics.
A lot of contrast draws the aircraft and the mine together in creating suspense. The back of the plane is awash in fire, while the underside of the mine is green with seawater. Bright colours highlight the plane, actively detonating, while dark greens and blacks lock away the mine’s potential, rising metaphorically, evinced in the reflection of the fire on the mine’s face.
If, instead of a plane, a second boat sped towards the mine in flames, would the effect be as great? Since mines are meant to destroy ships, it would remain a waiting bomb. Incongruity, however, confronts it with change, and through it the mine exerts the will of the frogmen to defend against the inescapable. True opposites are converging here, and so great are the elements of their opposition that the imagined reaction is much more tragic and more real. Closing the distance via scale heightens tension.
Feebly, the ship is firing back. Dwarfed by the fire of the plane, the muzzle flash from the boat’s guns nonetheless adds some action. Every bit of logical space is composed towards the plane. Nothing active extends above its disintegrating left wing, which is an interesting feature. Not only does it suggest just how compromised the aircraft is, it creates balance between itself, the mine and the ship. The mine is nicely centered. The ship lists to the left towards it and the plane. If the plane’s left wing were extended the detail around the hook would be too busy. Some of the tension would be lost. This way the action is kept nicely taut. An invisible line swoops down from the end of the G to the highest point of water on the left. Behind it, the frogmen are all connected, touching or overlapping in some way. They have their space and the plane has its space. Only the furthest points of each are about to meet: the spike just beneath that patch of yellow on the mine, and the plane’s propeller.
Beautiful sky in the background, isn’t it? Where other books might have a single expanse of colour, some extra effort was made here to subtly render the sky with clouds. Not storm clouds or large thunderheads, but nimbus in watercolour or airbrush offsetting the drama of the foreground. A practical choice of counterpoint. None of the expected tragedy is overwrought. It also segues comfortably into the green of the banner, itself complimented by the sea.
The water is well rendered, partially obscuring the men within it, and eerily nuanced with bubble trails and stark contrasts between shades of green. The frogmen are also well nuanced, completely composed within their suits, nothing else of them showing; their suits completely composed of one shade of green or another, giving a hard realism through an abundance of thick and thin lines. Duty and danger are emphasized, rather than humanity and emotion.
We are, by the way, the fourth frogman. The water curves around our mask. Some of those bubbles in the center are ours. And, by the way, we’re dead. There’s no way that plane will miss the mine. The ship won’t be any help. Look how flatly detailed it is. A lack of contrast suggests weakness. If it were meant to be significant, it would cast longer shadows. More than likely it shot the plane down.
The garish title and ridiculous tag promising the “watery world of the seas!!” are sensational counterbalances to the realism and suspense of the rest of the cover, perfect for comics. I don’t consider comics a marriage of art and literature, like some do. I consider them graffiti. That’s where their vitality lies, on a line between sensationalism and taste.
A great piece from a title that only ran eleven issues. From what I’ve seen, this was the best.
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