How to Read a Graphic Novel or Comic Strip:

Part 2 (Shots and Angles)

Graphic novels use static sequential images and juxtapose them in ways that distinguish the graphic
novel medium from that of movies. They allow us to see a whole page of visual elements at once, and
can juxtapose different icons in doing so. We normally read them from left to right and from top to
bottom, yet despite this convention, readers’ ability to see an entire page’s contents at once give them
a vision of the totality that film cannot do. Graphic novels, like movies, also use foreground and
background to focus on differing icons in separate frames, with close-ups and even extreme close-
ups guiding our focus.

Just like in movies, graphic novels use images and (oftentimes) words to create a narrative. Sure,
movies…well…move, and graphic novels don’t. And the presence of sound distinguishes film from
comics even further (even film showings during the silent era featured live music). But one thing that
graphic novels and movies do have in common is the shot.

Here’s a chart of some of the shots used in movies, comics, and graphic novels.
Don’t forget though that there are shots from further out, such as the long shot, and the extreme long
shot, such as this one from Mad Max: Fury Road:

Comic strips and graphic novels have a variety of shot-types related to distance just like movies do,
and the vocabulary we use for each is basically the same. For instance, we have the long shot, like
the one below from The Incal written by Alejandro Jodorowsky and illustrated by Mœbius.
The long shot (sometimes called a “wide shot” when the frame is wide like a movie screen) frames the
characters so that their entire bodies are visible. However, it is often used to establish setting, rather
than character. Above, we see what is also an establishing shot, or rather, a shot that establishes
the context for a scene. The protagonist, John DiFool, is clearly in a lot of trouble as he falls into a
seemingly endless pit in what appears to be a futuristic city centre. Meanwhile, bystanders comment
on the frequency of suicides here (“Whooa! There’ll be more!”), while some voice desire to shoot a
falling body (“Get my weapon! Gotta bag me a falling one!”). In a single frame, we can identify the
conflict the character is in, the architecture of this dystopian world, and the cynicism of the people who
inhabit it.

The medium shot is not altogether clearly defined, as it may include the entire body of a character, or
the frame may cut him/her off at the waist. What mainly distinguishes a medium shot from a long shot
is that a medium shot places focus on the characters in the foreground rather than on what’s
happening in the background. The medium shot is ideal for action and dialogue that is focused on the
characters.

In Fun Home (above) Alison Bechdel (famous for the “Bechdel Test”) tells the story of growing up with
a rather eccentric and not-too-loving father. Notice that the first medium shot frames both the
characters, allowing the audience to see the father focusing on the mirror, and the young Bechdel
resenting him. Then the second medium shot closes in on Bechdel as she and her sarcasm become
the focus of the scene.

The next shot is the close-up. The purpose of this is to bring a particular subject into our focus. For
example, a close-up of a human face can bring a character’s emotions into focus. This can have the
effect of making the audience feel closer to a character and is a great way to introduce us to one.
Ed Piskor’s Hip Hop Family Tree traces hip hop music through its origins in the 1970s and 80s. Here,
he uses the close-up to introduce three pioneering women in the genre.

The picture below uses this shot in a rather clever way.

It may be a little difficult to see exactly what’s happening in this frame from Jason
Aaron’s Scalped, but the bloody knife in front of this sinister individual is lodged in the desk in front of
him. He’s one of those villains who first enter the scene torturing someone, showing the audience that
he’s a violent threat to our protagonist. In this frame, the villain’s face is partly covered in shadow, and
partly covered by his weapon of choice. It gives the audience the sense of seeing him without having
a clear picture. We know that this guy is deceptive and extremely dangerous. We also know that the
knife is important. This knife, and the threat of being scalped, is likely the thing that stands between
the hero of the story (out of frame) and whatever it is he wants.

Along with the close-up is the extreme close-up. It may be used to focus on the details of a particular
object, or may be used to bring the familiar so close that it becomes unfamiliar. In the case of the
latter, the extreme close-up may instil unease or discomfort in the audience.

The classic case below is from Ultra Comics, by Grant Morrison, in which the power of this extreme
close-up could actually make a reader afraid of turning the page. The distorted images in the
character’s pupils hint at something unworldly, while the blood-spattered face of the protagonist is
another indication that what they’re seeing is something truly horrific:

Next we have angles of framing, which are really the same as camera angles. The effects of these
are similar to shots in that the perspective they create affects the way the audience perceives
everything in the frame.
Eye-level framing places the shot at the same level as the main objects in the panel. This angle’s
psychological effect on the audience is usually neutral, but that neutrality can be used in interesting
ways when the icons and light and shadow create particular effects.

Feeling psychologically neutral? In this shot from Jeph Loeb’s Batman: The Long Halloween, we are
meeting eye-to-eye in the darkness with a pretty intense, though cordial, aristocrat. What is most
striking about this is how we are included in the scene, in what is likely a POV (Point of View) shot.
With the icon directly addressing us as if breaking the fourth wall, we are made to feel involved in the
narrative, as if he is talking directly to us. (Note that this use of breaking the fourth wall is not nearly
as explicit as it often is with Deadpool).

High-angle framing (see below) places our perspective above the subject of the frame so we are
looking down on it. High angle shots can appear from the point of view of someone looking down on
another, or they can be used to communicate that a character is overwhelmed and powerless, as if
that person is literally “in over his or her head.”
The above picture is from a cover of Transmetropolitan, by Warren Ellis. His Hunter S. Thompson-
inspired protagonist is a rogue journalist in the future who is out to expose corruption at levels as high
as the United States presidency. While he may be in over his proverbial “head,” his face would
communicate that he is sly enough to handle the challenge, and his position on top of the city would
suggest that he has a watchful eye over it. The effect is to create a paradox, in which one is made to
look overpowered and powerful at the same time. This appropriately introduces a character that is
heroic in his defense of truth, and hypocritical in the ways his actions disregard the same morals he
professes to defend. He is a contradiction.

Low-angle framing has the opposite effect, making icons appear large and powerful.

Above, from The Little Man, Mary has run out of her house to tell her husband about the strange thing
she found in her home. Artist Chester Brown provides us with a low-angle frame of Mary and Joseph,
then shows us in the next panel that we were looking through the eyes of a young Jesus Christ. The
left panel is then both a low-angle frame and a POV shot. This has the strange effect of bringing the
audience and a character together to briefly experience things as one person, causing the audience
to temporarily become an active participant in the narrative.

When a combination of these shots and angles comes together, we get something like the following
(from Wool, a graphic novel based on the novel series Silo by Hugh Howey):
Reading the panels left to right, and top to bottom, we see that artist Jimmy Broxton has created a
hectic scene in which our story begins from a slightly high-angle close-up of a boot, showing the
importance of the soldiers’ movement. Then the next panel has an eye-level frame with soldiers in the
background juxtaposed against children playing in the foreground, likely communicating that the
children live here, and that soldiers running around is normal. Next is a close-up of a radio emitting an
urgent message, which conveys to us that a) there’s trouble, and b) we’re supposed to identify with
the “sheriff”. After that, there’s a medium shot of a mysterious figure with God-knows-what on his/her
back, then a high-angle frame of the man who is presumably our protagonist, followed by a high-angle
long shot of the marines charging up the stairs. Then, a close-up of another boot (a motif, perhaps
suggesting transience, or the trampling power of authority), a close-up of a hand, an extreme-close-up
of an eye showing the protagonist’s panic, and then a medium shot of our protagonist about to get
some bad news as he enters the cafeteria.

This sequence is hectic in both its style and its content. As this is the beginning of the graphic novel,
we are launched into a narrative that is in medias res (in the midst of things, or in the middle of
ongoing action). The close-ups suggest the importance of minor human action in this world, while the
longer shots establish this bleak metallic setting and the people who appear to live in it. Wool is
clearly aimed at creating suspense by propelling the audience into the unknown, not giving them
enough time to reflect on what they do know, but only giving them the chance to observe characters
in action. Each frame communicates that this world is dreary, dangerous, and it’s all anyone can do to
survive in it.

So, let’s keep in mind that shots and angles in graphic novels and comic strips are very carefully
chosen. Whenever we’re looking back through our graphic novel texts for stylistic features that will
help us score highly in Criterion C, we should consider what the artist wants us to focus on in each
panel, and why.