In issue three of Hellraiser, they're experimenting with the notion of running fewer stories, but allowing the stories present to run to greater length. All in all, I'd say the experiment is a success because there really isn't an even slightly below-par story in the lot. Here's what the third issue has on offer:
"The Crystal Precipice"
Jan Strnad, Steve Buccellato, Stan Drakes, Sherilyn Van Valkenburg, Michael Heisler
As with all long-running horror franchises, it was only a matter of time until Hellraiser ended up in space. "The Crystal Precipice" even predates Hellraiser: Bloodlines by eight or so years! This story takes place on an alien planet being surveyed by four explorers. As they look through their binoculars at a mysterious crystal city on the horizon, they see a human-shaped figure waving to them.
Of course, that's not a man--that's a Cenobite. In fact, it's Face. Remember when I said he would be one of the break-out original characters of the comic? Face loves this strange alien world, calling it an "Eden of rock and dust and crystal." In fact, he has a great admiration for the floating crystalline entities that inhabit this world because they have left all the impurities of the flesh behind for lives of strict geometric order.
One member of the explorers is a great example of the unruly flesh of mankind: Ernest is a violent rapist who has been assaulting one of the women in the party. He's caught in the act and banished into the alien waste. Unfortunately, that simply drives him into the hands of Face, who uses him to lure the rest of the group to their dooms.
Ernest's revenge trip is thwarted when he accidentally hits an alien crystal while firing a gun at one of his former compatriots. Face allows for no accidents; unworthy of transformation into a crystalline entity, Ernest is instead taken to Hell and refashioned as one of the mongrel pets the Cenobites keep.
As far as stories go, this is a strange one, but what I appreciate most about it is that the art style and characterization is heavily reminiscent of the horror comics put out by Warren back in the day. There's a wonderful throwback quality to "The Crystal Precipice" in its blending of weird science and horror that is particularly pleasing even if there isn't much depth to the story. Which is fine, as this one functions like an appetizer for the longer tales to come in this issue.
"The Blood of a Poet"
R. J. M. Lofficier, John Ridgway, Gaspar Saladino, Steve Oliff
In "The Blood of Poet," a naive would-be poet from Kansas finds himself in 1920s Paris, hoping to find his way in the invigorated European art scene between the wars. Following a tip he gleans at an occult bookstore, which happens to have a cute employee who catches his eye, he seeks a room at the Pension Veneur--a rooming house where artists are allowed free residence. The only terms at the Pension Veneur is that any artist in residence is required to create and they must attend formal dinners within the house every night.
The formal dinners are a nightmare of rehashed arguments, recriminations, and general antisociality, punctuated by what appear to be epileptic fits. During his first night within the Pension Veneur, our poet has horrific dreams--rendered in a way that delightfully reminded me a bit of the work of Basil Wolverton--and discovers upon awakening that he has penned lines of truly decadent verse. His experience at the rooming house never improves; his fellow residents are secretive, combative, and their ways are shocking to a young man fresh from the Midwest. When he's invited to join in a sadomasochistic sex act, he demurs with great haste.
When he takes the cutie from the bookstore out on a date, he learns that her boss probably steered him to the Pension Veneur under a malign ulterior motive. That ulterior motive creeps into the picture when several small details converge: the protagonist learns that Lemarchand had a hand in the Pension Veneur and several former residents of the room house have disappeared under mysterious circumstances.
Things come to a head when the main character is accosted by the other residents and chained to a wall as they operate a phallic-looking clockwork contraption that summons the Cenobites. (And they're the original movie Cenobites!) It is revealed that the Cenobites allow the Pension Veneur to exist in hopes that the artists they patronize will create works that capture their hellish ideas and translate them into artistic mediums. Those who fail are sacrificed to make way for the next batch of prospects. As the Cenobites approach, the protagonist declaims his infernal-inspired verses, impressing the Order of the Gash. They take one of the other residents to Hell instead.
The main character attempts to flee the house and the horrible bargain he has struck within it, but when he finds out that his lady love from the bookstore was slain in a random mugging he returns to the Pension Veneur, dejected but ready to accept his damnation. The artwork, and especially the color choices, in this story give it a lurid, sullen atmosphere that perfectly fits the subject matter. It's a longer story, in terms of the usual page lengths for the comic, but it uses that space to be languid rather than packed with frenetic plotting.
"Songs of Metal and Flesh"
Peter Akins, Dave Dorman, Lurene Haines, Phil Felix
"Songs of Metal and Flesh" is another story that has remained with me over the years; in my estimation, it ranks among the acknowledged classics of Epic's Hellraiser run. Like "The Blood of a Poet," this story concerns art--in this case, classical music. Since childhood, Jason Marlowe has been blind. True to the trope, Jason's "other senses" compensate for his lack of vision and he becomes a musical prodigy. He wins a scholarship to a musical academy where he not only excels, but meets a woman named Deborah who will change his life.
His sexual experiences with Deborah put all those heightened sense to good use. In their pleasure, he finds access to the "hidden melodies and mysterious harmonies" that had alluded him. However, Jason Marlowe also discovers a rival in fellow student Stephen Middleton. Unsatisfied with competing against Jason musically, Stephen also seduces Deborah. Stephen assumes that because Jason cannot see Deborah's infidelity he is incapable of detecting it, but he can feel it, smell it, and hear their "cruel excitement."
Deborah introduces sadomasochism into her relationship with Jason, tying him to the bed and slashing his chest with a knife. This not only brings a new flavor of sexual pleasure into Jason's life, but gives him another way to access "the hidden sonatas." Meanwhile, Stephen breaks into Jason's home and places razor blades between the keys of his piano so that the next time he plays he maims his hand.
Stephen exits to a successful career as a touring musician. The story notes, with cold cruelty, that he cheats on Deborah in every city and that she eventually dies, unloved, of a cancer that eats away at her.
Jason is forced to pivot from performer to composer, but his experiences with Stephen and Deborah have fueled him to creative heights he would not have reached otherwise. Music becomes a puzzle to solve and--well, you see where this is going, right? At the cresendo of his composition, he drags his naked body along a wall studded with razor blades, then spins en pointe, sending droplets of his blood to complete the sheet music he has scattered before him on the ground.
At the debut of Jason's piece everything goes to Hell--literally. Stephen is the pianist entrusted to bring the music to life, of course, and when he does he finds himself snared on hooked chains, the Cenobites now part of the audience. What follows is pure Grand Guignol style theatrics: headless violinists saw at their instruments and the audience is flayed alive. In the end, Jason finds himself in Leviathan's realm. His vision has been restored, so that he might see the horrors around him, but he has now lost his senses of touch, smell, taste, and hearing. Once an instrument for producing Hell's music, he is now a physical instrument plucked and drummed upon for eternity.
As I said at the start, I consider "Songs of Metal and Flesh" to be a Hellraiser classic--and for good reason. It is an exceedingly cruel story, and the way it combines desire, beauty, and pain into a heady mix is entirely on theme. I also love the art style. There is a certain naivety to the coloring (colored pencils, I think) that mirrors Jason's lack of experience and unguarded descent. This one is hard to beat.
