Heart and determination account for a lot in the land of truly great comics. Case in point: Petrol Head. The series, from writer Rob Williams and artist Pye Parr, could be another story about mankind living in domes, using robots (specifically in high stakes races) as another form of “bread and circuses.”
And yet it’s this very real sense of fire and chutzpah that takes this book from being yet another title that explores man’s hubris to a proper celebration of what actually makes our species worth celebrating. Also, badass race cars!
The energy and intent, of course, begins with Parr’s own art. I’d mentioned in other coverage how the art has such a deep and prevailing sense of motion and intensity — it’s what makes everything from the daring races to the world-building stuff feel truly alive. And from a design perspective, Parr really does a great job of fluctuating and spinning in influences — certain robots have a really sleek look, while our titular hero looks more like a rusted B-52 bomber with Hulk-ian mitts.
That contrast, as it were, does a lot for balancing this book’s ideas and influences, helping fostering something organic and familiar and yet a world that’s just as much removed from our very own experiences. It’s that sweet spot, as it were, that plays with our sensibilities and has us grappling with the scope and development of this world. And it never feels any less deliberately fun even as we sense some larger currents beginning to take shapes.
Courtesy of Image Comics.
There’s just so much force and liveliness across every scene, and even this early on we get the sense of a wholly-fleshed out world. It’s one that we can explore with every new page, and try to sort out how our own planet may have transformed into this hellish but also quite vivid new landscape. (So in that sense, it feels even more playful than outright accusatory.) And so much of all of that is Parr’s work with color and shading — few people can bring this much heft and intensity, and it’s that commitment and a series of subtle choices that fleshes this world out so poignantly.
And in a decidedly similar sense, Williams’ writing is very much accomplishing the same kinds of goals. The aforementioned Petrol Head “hero” isn’t just designed really well, but that specific aesthetic, and his bridging of the human and “futuristic” elements, is really important to the grander narrative. But even more than that, he’s just a properly surly hero, and his movements through the world give us a chance to see the sheer multifaceted emotionality that defines this world — one of bleakness and despair but also something more hopeful as it, once again, still feels very much like our own world. That vivid struggle rings as quite important thematically — how can we prevent our own downfall, perhaps — while also feeling quite compelling in terms of creating a narrative framework that’s distinctly more nuanced than some similar titles.
Courtesy of Image Comics.
Petrol Head is also a great foil for two human characters who 1) kick-off the story proper into some Smokey and The Bandit/Children of Men territory and 2) give us something to root for in terms of Petrol Head’s development and our own future as a species. Williams, much like his collaborator, came to the story with enough levity and intent to make it a textured journey, something with big odds but also just as much heart.
It’s a critique of and a lesson in actual humanity, and I’m dying to see the journey of these characters across this arc of redemption (for the species and not necessarily themselves). Williams also has a really solid knack for focusing on the big elements here (i.e., Petrol Head’s arc toward humanity) while building up some larger “conspiracy” in the background and the grander political schemes driving some of this journey.
Yes, if you like fast cars and dope robots, you will love this book. But Petrol Head is so much more than what’s basically a rather gritty remake of Wacky Races; it’s a story of the pervasiveness of humanity (for better and worse), and how things are never truly clear unless you hit the gas and get moving.
It’s reminiscent of a lot of recent sci-fi that’s obsessed with our downfall and the ways we have failed as people. But it also gives us a roadmap to something more, and it makes the resulting journey feel like a proper thrill ride.
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