Remember when “redneck chic” was popular? Jeff Foxworthy, Larry the Cable Guy, TV shows like “Duck Dynasty” and “My Name is Earl”, movies like “Joe Dirt”.
Yeah, I never got it either. But then, I’m not really the demographic: I grew up in the suburbs, upper-middle income family, both parents still married, and I’m only half white. I also graduated high school. And college. People like me are the redneck’s natural enemy.
I apologize if I’m employing some classist (and racist) stereotypes, but rednecks have been doing it for ages, and we’ve just survived (barely) four years of a racist white nationalist asshole for president, so my anti-redneck trigger finger is a little itchy.
That said, Jeff McComsey’s graphic novel “Grendel, Kentucky”—-a redneck ode to “grindhouse” cinema classics of the late-‘70s and a contemporary adaptation of “Beowulf”, with a little “Sons of Anarchy” meets “Alien” thrown in—-is kind of brilliant.
Prodigal daughter Marnie, leader of an all-female biker gang, returns home to Grendel, KY for the funeral of her father, Clyde. Her dad and grandpa along with her brother Denny, kept the town afloat as the most lucrative weed farmers in the state. It kept them out of the coal mines, most of which are shut down anyway.
She arrives to discover a horrible secret: her father was killed by a literal monster living in the old mines. What’s worse is that her grandpa and her dad were part of a decades-long deal with the monster: provide occasional human sacrifices to the creature in exchange for yearly abundant crops of the best weed in the region.
She leads an attack on the monster, killing it, only to find that the monster was merely a young’un. Deep in the cave is the monster’s mama, and it’s pissed.
The graphic novel is light on words but heavy on some great visuals provided by artist Tommy Lee Edwards. Seriously, there are whole pages in which nothing is actually said, but there is plenty shown, in graphic, bloody detail. Not for the squeamish.
I’m sure somewhere in here is a great Trump-era parable about white nationalism’s deal with the Devil in which the Devil has finally come to collect. It’s there.
But like most grindhouse entertainment, you’re just here for the action and the gore anyway, not the political commentary.