Jeff Lemire is back with another chapter of his engrossing sci-fi epic Trillium. One thing, and I’ll say this once more and move on, I really wish Lemire would stop with the wacky inverted, front-to-back, back-to-front, split story gimmick. It was cool the first time, but now it’s just beating a dead horse. The story doesn’t need all the bells and whistles. The story is one of the best examples of emotional weight built into comic book that I have seen in a long time.
Life continues its harsh rainstorm on both Nika and William. The two explorers, William from Earth in 1920 and Nika from a hellish future in 3797, have switched entire lives. Currently, Nika is trapped as a former soldier in the early ’20s, and William a scientist from the future. At first, this seemed normal, but reality has crept back into the lives of Nika and Williams, and the truth is causing both characters to crack up.
At the center of this story is a temple – on Earth, it is Mayan temple, but in space, it is the temple of an alien species. The portal created by the temple called to Nika and William for very different reasons. Nika found the aliens had a surplus of trillium, a flower that could be the savior of mankind. William’s quest was to forget the horror of wars. Once the two met, the temple fell under attack, leaving both in their current garbled history. Nika is wasting away in an asylum in London, while William is preparing for a deep space voyage. Both know that their current lives are a lie, and both risk everything to solve the mystery.
Lemire’s writing, which is usually excellent, finds a new level with Trillium. While the major plotline is rich and exciting, the deeper emotional connections are the core to the entire story. Lemire is really setting up the emotional identity of his characters. Nika is strong, but lonely. In the opening pages, Trillium reveals how she lost her mother, and that she has lived a life against the odds since then. William is from privilege and has no faculties designed to deal with true emotional hardship. Lemire has set this up throughout the story, but always subtly.
In Trillium #6, Nika only has her memories and her complete dedication to the truth that the life she is in is not her own. Once again, she stands alone, as everyone else believes her to be mentally unbalanced. In the face of that adversity, Nika takes charge of her search for the truth. Meanwhile, William has concrete proof that this life is not his. The sentient operating system, referred to as Essie, has a full record of Nika in her real life as a scientist in 3797. Faced with this truth, William is still timid, barely scraping together the courage to find the truth. Lemire builds a tension to Trillium #6 that is so potent that when the final page is revealed; it’s devastating not just to Nike and William, but the reader as well.
As wholly original as Trillium is, it calls upon and art style that is slightly left of center. For that reason, I applaud and enjoy Lemire’s decision to pencil the work himself. His style is rough, but that unpolished flair gives Trillium a strong sci-fi pulp vibe. The visuals of the book also stand-alone against any other artist out there. If Lemire had handed the book over to another artist, no matter how much “better” he or she was, it would have been a detriment to the overall vibe of the story. Do I think Lemire should draw X-Men? No. Does his style work for his own books? Absolutely.
Trillium is a treasure. A culmination of art and story that is as rare as the flower the series is based on.
