Kris Kool is an ultra-psychedelic journey to Venus, Mars, and Saturn, which turn out to feature puzzling geometrical landscapes with a pansexual phantasmagoria of nubile kaleidoscopic enchantresses in the full complement of Peter Max-ian primary colors. You’d never guess it was from 1970, now would you?
Caza, the pseudonym for Philippe Cazamayou, is a French comics artist. Caza began to publish work in Pilote magazine, starting with his series Quand les costumes avaient des dents (When Costumes had Teeth) in 1971, followed by other short work. The series of stories Scènes de la vie de banlieue (Scenes of Suburban Life) was published in 1975, followed by the L'Âge d'Ombre stories, Les Habitants du crépuscule and Les Remparts de la nuit. With the emergence of the magazine Métal Hurlant in 1975, Caza began to supply work within the science-fiction genre, with titles such as Sanguine, L'oiseau poussière, initially working with an exhaustive black and white dot technique. This was later abandoned for a style of colour use which would become a trademark, as seen in later work such as Arkhê, Chimères and Laïlah.
Caza expands our world by shattering preconceptions. If we are used to think in terms of a scale where one extreme is absolute misogyny and the other is sacred matriarchy, then we might not be prepared to classify works like Kris Kool or Laïlah. Going through theses pages we need new references. Better yet, we are left to our own devices. Feminism and patriarchy are not enough to face the psychedelic cockiness of Kris Cool or the dark telluric humor of Laïlah.
The french BD genius writes as if from another dimension.
Usually sci-fi narratives are allegories, metaphors. During repressive regimes, sometimes the dictator, the regime and other traits and details of reality are portrayed symbolically, disguised to escape censorship. The device used, many times apparently can be de-codified back, as if the writer achieved what Turing did with his machine, during the war.
So after a great work is done, critics battle over hermeneutics. That happened with Orwell. 1984 should mean this and that, not that other thing and specially not that other thingy.
Some writers, like Ursula K. Le Guin, warn against this. Writers are not messengers. So the fiction craft is not to send a message. And sci-fi is not just a symbolic message. Even if the craft is about creating metaphors about reality.
With Caza, we understand that we cannot simply get the decryption instructions. He is a weaver, a story teller, a creator of fables. As much as a masterful illustrator.
And his worlds do seem to come from another place. They don't just seem to be surrogates for this world. Symbolic representations. They have an inner logic, a coherence and they challenge us.
Going deep in a Caza story, we realize that it is quite easy to create a sci-fi dystopia, in the traditional sense: you take reality and you distort, exaggerate, take to the limit a few elements and just let everything else stay coherent as usual. So it seems strangely familiar, because most of it is as usual.
But Caza makes it from scratch. And builds weirdness on top of otherworldliness. He really explores other possibilities. And he does not worry about the usual frontier of what is sci-fi and what is fantasy: he can make humans do the impossible in a very banal environment or start unexpectedly (as in later works) to draw in a outright hallucinogenic way, suggesting the dilution of the barriers of reality. He uses both the narrative and the art to explore possibilities to his characters.
The space a BD from Caza opens is immensely vaster than other great works. And I can dive into it again and again. I read this one (which is an earlier one, published in 1970) after all 9 tomes of Arkadi's World and several other. And it is satisfying to see where the tendency to diverge into psychedelia came from. And also his very original ideas about sexuality. I have no way to describe them. And I guess that, at different times, different people might have misunderstood them.
This very early (1970) graphic novel from Caza (aka Philippe Cazaumayou) is a crazed circus of psychedelic color and erotic sci-fi campiness. It unabashedly reflects the era in which it was created, when drug trips were all the rage, and viewing the world through that very particular lens allowed you to believe that you were making a political statement by taking off your clothes.
Kris Kool has much in common with Jean-Claude Forest's original comic version of Barbarella (along with Roger Vadim's 1968 film version of the same). These works use the science fiction genre as a convenient point of departure for exploring contemporary concerns of sexual liberation and female empowerment, but drench their presentation in vivid primary colors and intentional absurdity so that they never feel the least bit preachy.
Suponho que ler esta obra clássica no silêncio da madrugada seja o mais próximo que se possa chegar de uma viagem alucinatória psicadélica sem ter de recorrer a químicos de fama incerta. Caza dispensa apresentações, sendo um dos veteranos da ilustração de BD e ficção científica de visão surreal, mas neste Kris Kool superou-se a si próprio. Se o corpo da sua obra se classifica como uma interpretação classicista do surreal, este livro ultrapassa esses limites e entra desavergonhado no campo do psicadelismo puro. Formas que se dissolvem, sombras inexistentes, exuberância de cores vivas e irreais. A história não lhe fica atrás, uma viagem de delirante futurismo com toques eróticos onde um piloto de naves espaciais se apaixona pelas mulheres-flor venusianas e acaba desterrado num mundo paralelo, rodeado de beldades vegetais e a lutar contra uma montanha carnívora. Pois. Não faz muito sentido. É delírio, com o seu quê de patético. O que torna Kris Kool interessante e de referência é o profundo assalto visual das suas pranchas, viagem alucinatória que sobrecarrega o cérebro.
On the one hand, this book is wonderfully dated; on the other hand, it's not so wonderfully dated. Wonderful: the endlessly inventive psychedelic pop-art visuals, with their insane colors and compositions - a time capsule that still feels graphically fresh and exciting. Not so wonderful: the casually misogynist storyline, which basically argues that the best women are alien plants who can be grown and replaced at will (until they get boring and you walk away). I was happy to get this in English, but I dunno, maybe I would have been better off remaining ignorant while primarily looking at pictures in the original French...
Kris Kool is a mind-bending foray into a dystopian sci-fi setting whereby the French master Caza crafts an imaginative world in just a matter of a few pages. Having been lightly introduced to Caza's works in various Heavy Metal Magazines, I knew to expect some extravagant worldbuilding and awe-inspiring compositions with striking contrasts. But with the extended page count of a full length comic, Caza really flexes every ounce of artistry with Kris Kool.
The story follows a suave spaceway smuggler who initially gets recommended for a job only to learn that his new patrons are smuggling some alien women causing Kris Kool to back off the job. Things go awry quickly and Kris Kool finds himself stranded on the alien world from where the women are being trafficked from. The worldbuilding is eclectic with the story taking off in a completely different direction quickly.
What is really impressive is how much Caza achieves with storytelling from artwork alone. Panels are crammed with abstract forms that beg questions to which there are no answers. Instead, it seems like an open invitation to the reader to let the psychedelic artwork take them on the same ride that Kris Kool is on and figure stuff out on their own. There is no handholding in Kris Kool, and despite the rather simple narrative setup, the story is not the easiest to interpret thematically.
The artwork is simply spectacular. I'm more familiar with Caza's black & white stories found in issues of Heavy Metal Magazine, but the infusion of color makes this a wildly different reading experience. The color choices are remarkably vibrant and work hand in hand with the colorful nature of the story itself. Each page is worthy of taking the time for the eyes to drink in all the luscious colors and it'll be why this book makes it way regularly back in the re-read rotation. Absolutely masterful bit of sci-fi comics right here.
Un libro mítico del gran ilustrador Phillip Caza. Publicado originalmente en 1970 por Eric Losfeld en París dentro de una linea editorial que empezó a sacar cómics para adultos tanto por su temática por su presencia física como libro (tapa dura y buen formato) como por su precio. De todas formas habría que matizar que lo de adulto es un genérico ya que sin embargo por su estética era muy afín a las modas juveniles de la época (psicodelia, arte pop, hippismo, rebeldía,...) por lo que se acercaba más a un publico universitario más que otra cosa. La calidad estética es incontestable con logros gráficos muy interesantes y un guion enloquecido que hace que capte la atención desde el primer momento aunque en el ultimo tercio se enzarza en cuestiones pseudofilosóficas que hace que pierda fuerza al final. Esta primera edición agotada y de coleccionista con ganas de gastar, si es que lo encuentra, ha sido resuelta para el lector común a través del propio Caza que oferta en su pagina web un escaneado de su propia obra a un precio muy razonable. Por su parte Passangers Press en Italia ha hecho unas ediciones limitadas (una en italiano, agotada, y otra en francés que cuando escribo esto todavia hay ejemplares).
Kris Kool is totally sick. I think the story fell off slightly from the potential of the beginning, but regardless it is a psycadelically airtight masterpiece. Highly recommended. The ebook is available online at Caza eBOOK and Passenger Press still has a few copies as well!
A philandering astronaut is driven from a space station after attempting to rescue a captive alien woman. In his exile he ventures across psychedelically rendered worlds and dimensions where he engages in frequent sexual exploration and otherworldly adventures (generally in the pursuit of more sex).
It's a rare feat for a book to win me over purely through the art, but the aesthetic in Kris Kool could not be more up my alley nor the execution more exceptional. It reads like a 60's Wes Wilson band poster merged with sex-fueled fever dream about an interdimensional space faring Cassanova. The story, while minimal, is aptly jovial and non-serious scaffolding for gorgeously saturated and hypersexual psychedelic imagery.
Caza worked with Rene Laloux on Gandahar and was a regular contributor to Metal Hurlant (aka Heavy Metal in the States) and it really shows. This book is nestled right in that intersection. A little bit James Bond meets Barbarella.
Just out of control to look at. Gorgeous would not be an overstatement. Which is important, because the story itself, well…I mean, whatever it’s not about that, it’s about mountains made of boobs.
It’s good at what it’s good at: beautiful, horny, psychedelic fun.