Image Comics
Writer: Wyatt Kennedy
Artist: Luana Vecchio
Letterer: Brandom Graham
As a story, Bolero reads as a succinct encapsulation of painful yearning. At one point in issue #4, Natasha opines: “Over time, I think I really started noticing how sad [Devyn] was. We bonded over that. I think that was a mistake.” It’s a heavy, infinitely relatable insight that calls to mind all manner of lovers doomed from the start. Not just miserable, abusive relationships, but impossible unions formed by two people trying to build a life at their lowest points.
Beneath these universal truths –or, tragedies– Bolero swims in specific moments and character details. Natasha hates snakes but is afraid of spiders. In a straight-from-life exchange, Natasha posits that Dev “[hates] the outdoors” after the latter suggests a day of hiking. “I hate the outdoors when it’s hot,” Dev clarifies. It’s a detail so minor and mundane that it instantly brings the character to life. These little instances of character building always turn back to the two of them, with Dev adding: “I’m broke until Friday, but I wanna do something fun with you.”
Indeed, neither the adorable character moments nor psychological lows endured by Dev and Natasha are used as dramatic window dressing; Bolero pages are often structured like waterfalls–cascading puzzle pieces rushing together to turn two-dimensional characters into believable people.
When Dev asks Natasha if she’d be a good mother, it’s not a vague question that demonstrates Dev’s willingness to be vulnerable with Natasha, or allude to their future. It’s a direct result of Dev having no relationship with her own mother, and therefore questioning whether she’s capable of the role. It’s a curiosity that gnaws at her, and Natasha is the only person she trusts to share that hunger with.
The way Bolero leverages its slice-of-multiverse genre reminds me of a story idea I once had, “Back to Myself Again”, set in a world where people could use VR to relive any point in their lives. In this world, many people have become completely consumed in literal nostalgia trips.
In Bolero, the multiverse doesn’t branch out endlessly into the expanse of all realities–a path to limitless adventure and danger. It’s an endless, twisting journey of the self. The multiverse is an implosion, a circuitous search for inner-peace. There’s no grand Architect or Intellect at the center. There’s only you.
To this end, I’m glad Capgras has not been portrayed as a mischievous multiversal imp. There’s no need or room for a conventional antagonist in Bolero, but there’s plenty of space for a sci-fi/self-help mascot.
Bolero #4 focuses more on healing than hurting. At one point, Dev says something so hurtful to Natasha it’s self-censored from the book. But Natasha, with the perspective of time, offers a degree of forgiveness and, more importantly, an understanding that Dev has to wake up every morning and live her greatest fear: another day as herself, and another, and–
But it’s okay, whether they hurt or help one another in Bolero #5. There’s a beautiful moment (in a potential FLCL homage) of emotional release when Dev embraces Natasha: “Where did you go?! You left without saying anything!”
These two won’t end up together. They might stay friends. They’ll push one another away and pull them back. Hurt, help. But no matter what, some version of themselves are hand in hand, flying the multiverse together.
Bolero #4
You might not be the center of the universe, but you are the center of *your own* universe, no matter how many interdimensional doorways you walk through.
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