Polarity #1

written by Max Bemis
art by Jorge Coelho

Polarity is a half-fictional, half-autobiographical dramatization of the protagonist's uneasy struggles with bi-polar disorder.  That Bemis speaks from his own experiences gives it a credibility and sincerity that's difficult to simulate.  His dialogue is simultaneously rich, densely clever, and entirely believable.  Timothy Woods'—Tim to everyone—relationships are well-defined:  his easy but loveless fling with pretentious girlfriend Alexis; his longing flirtation with Lily; his truthful, close, and occasionally hurtful friendship with devoted childhood "bestie" Adam; and his caring fondness for his therapist Dr. Mays.  If anything in Polarity rings false, it's Tim's place in the Brooklyn art scene.  Whether Creed albums or Ace of Base dancing, Polarity is tethered soundly in pop music, but its representation of visual art is casual and distant.  Bemis, former lyricist of Say Anything, is a musician, and whatever Bemis may insist on for his story, so is Tim.

It's also funny.  Tim's manic spiral and self-deprecating narration offer plenty of laughs, most of which endear him to the reader—and, by extension, Bemis, whose confessional candor is refreshing.  It's also a mildly scathing satire of hipster pretension told from the inside.  It's not hateful as much as sad, a desperate bid for recognition and relevance, but one that maintains hope of discovering something real.

Polarity's unexpected turn in its final few pages spring the series in a different direction, or perhaps onto a different interpretive plane.  For most of the issue, Tim's narration is distant from events, capable of recording his behavior and his feelings but from a more remote place, like—to whom, no doubt, the narrative voice is indebted—Bemis looking back on his younger self.  His paranoia and delusions are recognized as such.  Leaving home without his pants does not make him any more an invisible superhero than Apatow bromances confirm that he's reincarnated Jesus.  However, his belief—formerly dismissed as delusion—that he can read the thoughts of his neighbors and that one of them, who has a particular fondness for soggy Reubens, is watching him is, in fact, true.  It lends an unsuspected plausibility to Tim's delusions recasts Polarity, not as a distant description of living with bi-polar disorder, but rather as an allegory for it, a super-powered trip into the frightening and seductive promise of the incredible.

[April 2013]