The Con Artists
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- 15,99 €
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- 15,99 €
Description de l’éditeur
A quintessentially millennial tale about friendship and the quest for self-actualization
This is going to be Frank’s year. He’s going to do it all: find love, become a famous comedian, and responsibly parent his plants. But then, Giorgio gets hit by a bus.
Self-assured and utterly entitled, Giorgio has always seemed like “Frank, but better.” Moving in with and caring for his estranged childhood friend quickly starts to chip away at Frank’s sense of self, as well as Giogio’s carefully curated online persona. Is Giorgio’s penchant for overindulgence truly aspirational? Or is it ultimately a red flag? The further Frank is pulled into Giorgio’s orbit, the quicker his existential dread blooms. Expectation and reality soon collide in a singular tale about trust and confidence.
Luke Healy’s playful, hilarious third graphic novel uses crisp lines and physical comedy to portray an uneasy friendship between two young men on the cusp of adulting. Snippets from Frank’s middling stand-up routines are punctuated by the subtle farce of Healy’s mise-en-scène and the lively, at times scathingly pointed, banter of old friends. The Con Artists is a stylish character study that asks the question of who fools who once everyone is off-camera.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
A queer Irish stand-up comedian whose act hinges on candid self-appraisal struggles with mounting anxiety in this droll but affecting graphic novel from Healy (Americana). Frank's hoping for a big break at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival when he gets a call from his flamboyant childhood friend Giorgio ("I can't say if he blazed a trail for me, or kept me closeted longer")—who's just been struck by a bus. Though they don't have "an ‘unprompted call' kind of relationship," Frank plunges headlong into his "irrepressible" friend's home care—handling everything from Giorgio's grocery shopping to his bathing. Cracks begin to show in the facade of Giorgio's Instagram-filtered lifestyle, as Frank keeps a mental tally of the extravagant spending, conspicuous falsehoods, and consistent drinking on display. Frank also sees a therapist, but he parries with reflexive jokes her pointed questions about his determination to see an increasingly exasperating Giorgio through to recovery. Healy's unfussy linework and tidy layouts ground the story. Occasional deadpan metafiction gags (such as the literal donning of a "Frank costume") spring Healy's themes to life, tilting the familiar setup of the neurotic stand-up comic toward a wry examination of the interplay of authenticity and vulnerability. The result's a mordantly funny cautionary tale, and an incisive look at the boundaries of self-presentation and self-preservation.
