is probably one of the best celebrations of what it means to be a writer and a filmmaker.
Since our main character is a boy who is often photographed, the book has a found-camera feel to it. We see his journey through his lens dealing with grief as a teenager, and how others react and come to terms with difficult situations. However, how many of these feelings are real, and which are part of the movie our protagonist is creating? Without revealing too much, some scenes feel like real reactions to the characters’ situations. But then, the characters turn to the camera, and it makes you realize that’s part of filmmaking. You start to question almost every scene that seems pretentious or confusing. At no point did I find this frustrating. It wasn’t until the very last moment that I realized it didn’t matter whether everything was “real” or fiction within fiction. There is a real sense of sadness throughout.
When I say this book reads like a found film movie, I mean it. 80 80 tells the story using a unique presentation that I haven’t seen other cartoonists emulate before. The book uses orthodox comma style, with only four stretched panels on most pages. Everything seems pretty basic at first glance. At times, these panels appear to be used to depict dialogue between immobile characters in the same space. Yet the way Fujimoto uses this layout to manipulate pacing and anticipation is so remarkable and subtle that you don’t realize it until you’ve finished the book. The story has a cinematic feel to it because it lets the scenes breathe, even after the characters say their exact lines, even if there are a few panels or pages without dialogue.
The story doesn’t have particularly much dialogue, and there are as many pages without dialogue as there are previously loaded pages. When the comic does ditch the four-comma style in favor of a double-page spread, it feels deliberate, like an indie movie that wastes its budget on big scenes after staying conservative throughout. I even like some of the more subtle details, like how some panels overlap the drawing to create a blurry look, like a screenshot of a camera in motion.
It felt like Fujimoto told me he was just showing me what he wanted me to see. Still, all those winks and nudges come with a promise: I’ll eventually walk away with a good feeling. For some, this can be frustrating, maybe even pretentious. But to me, it felt like a genuine conversation with the creator. I may be reading this into too much – it feels like Fujimoto seems to be expressing a love for this kind of manipulation, and how it’s okay to sometimes succumb to illusion and blur the line between fantasy and reality. Because, sometimes, a little fantasy can make real life more interesting. I can’t speak for everyone. But I’m glad to be manipulated in this way because I finally have the chance to walk away with a new favorite to add to my collection. If you haven’t already, 293293 Definitely a must-read and my highest recommendation!
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