Aside from its perplexing end, Cahill's black-and-white one shot merits attention, if only for its winning of the Xeric grant for independent comics and for its most identifiable feature its silence. SOMETHING SO FAMILIAR hasn't a word of dialogue. A few words on billboards and in notes appear (most notably in an employer's termination notice), but Cahill communicates the story almost entirely in images and symbols. Where words seem inescapable, Cahill often substitutes symbols. He communicates a car radio's incessant prattle with a simple, obnoxious smiley face. Like Matt Kindt's silent masterpiece, 2 SISTERS, Cahill proves the effectiveness of images and crafts a tale of sequential art in the genre's purest form.
SOMETHING SO FAMILIAR succeeds not so much in the tale, but in the telling. The tale rings familiar enough: a down-on-his-luck office worker mourns the accidental death of his wife and son (hit by a bus as they walked out on him), only to find a termination notice on his desk at work. After already endured a car accident and a world that touts its good cheer in the face of his melancholy, John decides he's had enough and heads for his window. As he falls to the ground, he stops a few inches above the pavement, suspended by an invisible force with the shadow of angel wings facing him on the concrete. Then, he takes the air in a dream's flight of fancy. Cahill leaves the explanation to the reader. The final scene only poses a question. Those seeking an easy resolution will feel sorely disappointed.
Cahill's art looks cartoonish, but never distracting. Given the lack of dialogue, he relies heavily on facial expressions to convey John's anguish. The art style will ring familiar to those that read black and white independent titles, but Silvestri devotees might want to steer clear. For those looking to expand their repertoire of worthy, yet obscure independent comics, SOMETHING SO FAMILIAR might be a good place to start. It can be purchased at The New Radio web site.
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