4 out of 5

Huh.  Heading into issue three of Chuck Forsman’s Slasher, I was already conflicted.  The opening of the story had me thinking this would be an exploration of outsiderism, a la the writer’s previous tales of deviant-normals (i.e. we’re all fucked up), blended with some Revenger exploitation: data analyst Christine fends off the unsubtle advances of her vile boss and watches YouTube videos of her online boyfriend cutting himself.  Said boyfriend would seem to be kept in a state of frailty by his medication-dosing, god-fearing mum.

Clearly – I thought – Slasher would concern two paralleled examples of how extreme emotional outlets can manifest.  I didn’t, admittedly, question where this journey would take us, though.

…And by issue three I still wasn’t sure, but it was going somewhere much darker than assumed.  Chuck was leaning into horror territory here, dashed with indie introspection, and the opportunities to pull back and play it safe were bypassed.  When I closed the cover on the conclusion, I really just didn’t know how to feel…. not exactly in a puzzled sense, but the conflict brought upon by dense material: how do I feel.about this?  Why did I read it?  Why couldn’t I put it down?

Which is a damned accomplishment, and one I rarely get from comics.  Keeping with the horror vibe, it’s akin to how I felt after finishing Martyrs, which I consider a high point of genre filmmaking.  I felt then, and feel now, a bit gross about the experience and yet undeniably intrigued by the questions posed above.  I felt for Christine, as much as I was disgusted by where her journey took her.  Your brain wanders to the people you’ve known with similar traits, to the situations you’ve been in that maybe have hinted at similar thoughts…  Not all art has to be challenging, but when it is… it’s a grabbing experience.

Forsman’s art and colors, favoring the imperfect details on bodies, the sickly colors of natural light, are at a peak on Slasher.  His abilities occasionally stunted Revenger’s energy, but Slasher is an amazing accomplishment.  The vibe is off, for sure, but it’s purposeful, and it warps your vision appropriately for keeping your brain addled to absorb what’s to come.

The story’s denouncement fell a bit flat, perhaps inevitably.  There’s a necessity to speak a bit to what’s occurred, and while other character’s acceptance of it is endearing, I’m not sure if it was the most impactful way out of the narrative, although the scene that follows is a bit of exploitative gold, followed by the final pages which are truly haunting, and seal the deal on making this a masterful addition to Forsman’s catalogue.