One Great Panel: Parasyte
That's one way to sit.
These one great panels truly have a mind of their own (which is an unintentional Parasyte reference). As much as I look for panels to write about, I’m at the point where if they don’t call to me, then there’s just not that much to say about them.
This panel called to me. I was reading late one night and this panel happened and I metaphorically flipped. Would have literally flipped too, if I had the ability, but alas I don’t.
This is from Parasyte Chapter 38, page 172.
Context: Parasites have invaded Earth in small numbers, but they are deadly suckers. They take over the brain of humans and try to blend in, while also eating humans. In Japan, those parasites are starting to gather as they figure out ways to infiltrate human society. After facing the hero of the story, Shinichi, a high school student who has a parasite living in just his right arm, the parasites have regrouped to discuss their next move.
One of the best developments in Parasyte is seeing these parasitic extraterrestrials try to acclimate into human society and figure out how to blend in. What’s so masterful about it is how subtle the differences are. It’s in the eyes, something that Hitoshi Iwaaki has talked about, making those little differences to set them off as inhuman. Little differences to slightly unnerve readers and clue them in on something being off. But again, only slightly. As I’ve mentioned in regards to the horror in The Summer Hikaru Died, subtly is such a powerful tool.
That subtlety is all well and good, but in no other panel (thus far anyway) have the minor differences been so apparent as when they’re all in a room together, sitting like this.
With no context whatsoever, even the most aloof viewer will note how off the seating arrangement is. No one is directly facing any other person. Not everyone is at a table. And the speech attribution is tied to no one. No one’s mouth is moving. Yet they all look human enough.
Even the space is amorphous and nondescript, just like their attempted humanity. It’s just slightly unnatural. No walls, no discernible lighting, just tables and chairs in an open plain.
One of the things I’m learning about in my art classes right now is how setting the stage within a defined space can help bring more character—and by extension, humanity—to the front. If we, as readers, can recognize the space, we can understand it, inhabit it, wrap our brains around it. This came up because I was struggling to really get character or depth out of my drawing just existing on a white page. My teacher pointed out that until I build a scene in a defined space, it will keep feeling like that.
The space in this panel is a white page, essentially. An open space with a few boring pieces of furniture to attempt to cover for its emptiness. It’s perfectly in line with the mindset of these parasites as they struggle to integrate into what humanity actually looks like.
Adding a little cherry on top is we never really find out who said the singular quote in this panel, because the next panels don’t bother to clarify. But it doesn’t really matter, because it’s painting these parasites almost like a hive mind. They’re all in this with a singular world view. Which makes it even more interesting when they start to have a difference of opinions. You can’t see the rift from this panel, but I feel 100% confident in saying that I fully expect there to be hints of rifts developing over the coming chapters.
I love this panel. I love staring at it. I look from one parasite to the next, to the tables, to the chairs, to the posture of each panel inhabitant. It’s stellar.