The Dirt Beneath the Devil is an interesting title.
Off the bat, it sounds cool as heck; really, anything involving El Diablo automatically gains +5 awesome points. But if you think about it for a second, said coolness doesn’t really stand up. Like, it’s ground in Hell, which might be cool. Or, it’s when the Devil has come to our earthly realm, at which point it’s regular dirt, right? It’s a touch confounding and a little unsure of itself.
Sort of like The Dirt Beneath the Devil #1.
Here, writer Dan Panosian has teamed up with artist David Ferracci, colorist Lee Loughridge, and letterer Patrick Brosseau for what’s basically a Western meets the old “Deceased Estate Conflict” trope. (There has got to be a better name for that, folks.) In 1891, June Buckley has traveled to Kansas City following the death of her father, a man she never met and whom her mother only ever called a “scoundrel.” Together with a group of other beneficiaries — her stepmother and stepbrother, Martha Nell and August; Mr. Buckley’s old business partners, Thomas Mash and Peter Bickers; Buckley’s mistress Kima and her son Billy; and the dashing lawyer Temple Houston — she must travel to Wichita for the will reading. It’s like Oregon Trail, if instead of catching cholera you actually faced awkward family trauma.
Main cover by Dan Panosian. Courtesy of Mad Cave Studios.
Certainly the premise of The Dirt Beneath the Devil deserves enough merit. Turning said inheritance trope into a journey into the wilderness circa the dawn of 20th century is an inventive idea. If that whole story framework is about maximizing interpersonal drama, and playing up the respective relationship dynamics to varying degrees of juiciness, then a long horse ride into the middle of nowhere seems like a genius way to foster that rich tension. You’re not only playing every one against one another, but also playing them against a landscape that’s as dangerous as it is serene. And that novel tweak does everything we need to let these relationships really simmer, even if it does take a little time for them to actually get on the road. Still, the early bickering between folks is a tasty enough appetizer for what’s hopefully to come.
And part of said deliciousness is that the characters themselves are also compelling enough. Admittedly, the nasty step-family and the surly cowboys/business partners aren’t exactly groundbreaking in their execution. (Which is a little disappointing given how easily the creators had tweaked an existing “formula” with great result.) But they’re all serviceable enough; August is the right kind of scummy and mean; Mash and Bickers (great duo name, FYI) are gross without being repulsive; and I’m interested in the role of Kima and Billy as a unit. Still, these relationships mostly work so far because, well, June is a good egg.
Courtesy of Mad Cave Studios.
She doesn’t seem to really suspect all that much so far, and I think that’s a great way to establish the personal journey she’ll undergo, and how each relationship has the potential to push her in any number of ways. Her journalized narration emphasizes a bit more awareness/grit, but that whole dynamic just proves she’s an interesting enough and layered person who will be a great vehicle for all this lovely, lovely tension. And, hey, if nothing else, the romantic potential between June and Temple is already white-hot, and while it’s also a smidgen predictable to give her a love interest at this most transformative moment, I can’t deny that it’s a bit of gravity needed to wrap all these multifaceted relationships together.
Yet as much as The Dirt Beneath the Devil has already nailed the decidedly human elements of its primary story, I felt myself a little wanting when it comes to the western aspects. I suppose I entered this book with specific enough idea in mind — the singular grit and charm of the last days of the Wild West. Yes, we get some gorgeous scenic vistas to draw the eye and help establish the setting as a character. And the infrastructure and general look and feel of Kansas City is as charmingly quaint and ramshackle as I’d want and need it to be.
Even the clothing/attire capture that sense of an evolving world and this fleeting sense of longing for what was already being lost. But some of the world felt neither ugly or dirty enough, or that it had been filtered through a slightly more endearing lens than you’d what you’d otherwise want from this era. It made me think of a certain Coen Brothers western, only where the crisp clothes of Buster Scruggs perhaps felt like a commentary and not this overly sanitized aesthetic that’s a touch irksome already.
Courtesy of Mad Cave Studios.
And it’s not just that people didn’t look ugly enough and/or weren’t missing the right number of teeth. I got a sense very early on in The Dirt Beneath the Devil #1 that the story’s a touch confused about its aims from a genre perspective. Sure, it nailed its core premise with the utmost efficiency, but I can’t tell what it’ll eventually become. There’s certainly the right vibes for a murder mystery, but even then it’s not fully clear, and there’s no sense of foreboding I’d expect. There’s other elements that could push it more toward horror, but even that sense has to do with the deaths inherent to the early story and not anything in terms of tone or overarching objectives.
I’m also assuming that it’ll at least lean more toward undefined supernatural saga, but again that feels mostly like extrapolation on my end. It already feels like more should’ve been done in this debut to go beyond introducing the people and premise — we needed more inclination toward how this story might go starting with issue #2. Otherwise, it seems a touch lost or listless despite some great parts. But that lack of direction upends what does work to a noticeable degree, and I already have the sense that there’s not enough framework to really contain the story.
Courtesy of Mad Cave Studios.
Perhaps the biggest indicator of where The Dirt Beneath the Devil is right now has to do with a horse. More specifically, Hendido, a stallion chosen by a pre-death Mr. Buckley that June is then forced to ride to the actual reading. On the one hand, that level of control (especially when father and daughter were estranged) is deeply compelling. It’s a key aspect of the pair’s relationship that already works really well across #1, and that mega-disconnect is ripe with raw emotion and enough narrative possibilities to make it the most real “relationship” so far.
June’s disposition, and our unknowing (but still with a sharp enough inkling) toward Mr. Buckley’s true presence, will be something that could power this book if it continues to be a focus (and not the sole driving force of this title, of course). And the fact that it’s represented and facilitated by a horse is a way to really engage the western genre when the rest of #1 struggles to do so.
At the same time, there’s a wee bit of a “gimmick” involved with Hendido. (FYI: he’s drawn with such power, ferocity, and size that he transcends into a true force of nature, and that aspect does plenty to make him feel genuinely special.) I shan’t spoil said gimmick, but let’s just say I’m not entirely sold on its feasibility and meaning. I get what it might infer, or how it’ll actually play out for the remaining story, and I can at least applaud the creators for a very specific premise (if that is, indeed, the case).
Courtesy of Mad Cave Studios.
Mostly, it’s one of the main factors into the book’s overarching “identity problems”; it’s a decision that ultimately pushes the book into some weird territory, but doesn’t push it enough to make it more overtly fantastical and thus properly genre aligned. It would certainly be a statement, but there’s a real risk of it being needlessly, overly hokey, and that could easily obliterate the deeply personal tone of this book. (Plus, so far any supernatural energies mostly prove to be a whisper here, and more of the Hendido “shtick” could ruin those cool points.)
Still, I’m willing to take the ride with The Dirt Beneath the Devil because the first issue does work well enough. It may experience some genre-phobia (in a bad way), but the continued potential of its core premise is too much to truly deny. The vibes may not be as yee-haw worthy as I’d hope, but perhaps if the drama is dangerous enough, I can forego such downsides. (Like a cowboy version of Love Island, truly.) And while I fear the book is the wrong kind of fantastical, I can still admit that Hendido’s role could be better with the gift of true hindsight.
For now, adorn me in boots, slacks, and a sturdy vest and call me Interested The Kid.
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