PRIDE OF BAGHDAD

Brian K. Vaughan, Niko Henrichon

Pedro Moura

Brian K. Vaughan is one of the most successful writers of the moment from the North-American comics mainstream (and midstream too). Within that industry, he is behind two of the most interesting contemporary series: Y: The Last Man (almost reaching its conclusion, from Vertigo/DC Comics), not only about what the title states but also about the most inner nature of humans (no matter if they re women ), and Ex Machina (Wildstorm), a kind of mature take and variation on superheroes  in the real world, mature not for sexy poises and gory violence, but for once for having real issues. But besides these, he has a few other things, some closer to what superhero mainstream readers want, despite his little detours within that genre (check Runaways and Doctor Strange), some others a little more up close and personal, perhaps. Pride of Baghdad , I guess, is one of those books.

As the author has declared in an interview, comics have set quite early a  pretty rich tradition of telling meaningful stories with anthropomorphized animals  (Newsarama). This particular tradition has reached one of its peak with Walt Kelly s Pogo, but in any case we mat refer to a fictional propensity that finds its oldest surviving examples in Aesop s Fables, and has found its way into one of the strands of Goya s Caprichos, for instances. Pride of Baghdad opens itself to us as a realist, natural world, but in which the animals are given not only the power of speech as well as a capacity to think and to decide. Four lions have escaped the zoo of Baghdad and are thrown into a (pretentiously free) world of men, in the precise moment that the American troops are invading  this is the right word, folks  Iraq s capital city in the latest war in this country. Given the fact that word pride, in English, means both the collective noun for the big felines and emotion, it is only to be expected that the pun would find its way within the work, not only in the character s dialogues, but also as the continuous theme of the book, its basso continuo, and it goes well beyond the circle of the animal protagonists. Is pride to be found in the power of the many or in the individual s conscious decision? Is it more important to keep up a given status in the name of (the) pride or is it worth it to risk some change? Is not conquest, even if a perilous one, the only path to reach it? These are the questions that the characters seem to try to respond, through their actions, through their short saga. But, as I mentioned, these are echoes that go well beyond the beasts and can be applied to the humans that are present (even if they do not have an acting, direct role in the story). These humans may not be centre stage, but the invading/freeing American troops are nonetheless seen as gigantic, invincible and, therefore, making them at one time proud and… monstrous. To a certain extent and in several degrees, Vaughan seems to explore this idea (at least, clearly so in Y and Ex Machina). You will find no drop of Manichaeism here. What you will find though is the portrait of the decisions that we make in the heat of the moment  (terrible cliché, great image), not all times the best one neither the one that will bring about the simplest consequences. There is no moral to define here, except that of the scale that is always balancing.

This book partakes of two creative territories, here following the most naturalistic of rules, there taking leaps into imaginative freedoms. The moment when the lions enter of Hussein s palaces and are dumbfounded by the immense mural painting of a winged lion is simply brilliant. It is not important if lions cannot see  two-dimensional images, or if they couldn t make a pact with other species… those are precisely the spaces that fiction can elaborate and help us to understand the modes and empathies, the emotions and surprises of the lions… This is a sort of Animal Farm but in which the strongest ones are enclosed within a space of terrible naiveté. Niko Henrichon s drawings and formal approach, which employs an almost illustrations-like style, very simple and clear, are used in order to reinforce the mood of such naiveté (as if we were turning the pages of a children s book that hides under its surface a far more violent tale).

There are other facets that reveal and explore the ideology that is zeroed in on Pride. Such as the distinction that both lionesses, Safa and Noor, do in relation to the walkers  (i.e., humans), the former, older one considering them to be the protectors to who she owes some degree of loyalty, the second, youngest one outright declaring that those who would hold us captive are always tyrants . After a certain fashion, this same discussion could have been applied to every single human being, but it is more applicable, obviously, to the regimes in question (both the Iraqi and the Pax Americana) and the political invectives that they allow to come about. Pay attention to the bear calling the lionesses radicals , and perhaps you ll remember the hawk/dove dichotomy, or the left/right one, among som many other divisions that attempt to rationalize and explain the oil wars. But there s no morals, no logic whatsoever. Vaughan allows us the space to question this, but he provides no sure, final answer, for there is none…

And the ending reveals that the fine line between freedom and death is not light at all…