Strange things happen in a biker bar, a diner and an airplane. What they all have in common is the visit of a darkly eccentric, antagonistic young man. And he has a big question in Standstill #1: “If you could stop time, what would not you are doing?”
Ryker Ruel walks into a biker bar in Standstill #1. After extravagantly ordering drinks the bar doesn’t have and provoking the bikers into pointing guns at him, he appears to leap across the room. Then he’s suddenly gone, with one of the bikers holding a bloody knife while all of his comrades lie dead at his feet. Ryker has a device that allows him to stop time, and he’s on a quest for revenge.
The exclusive use of two-page layouts is the most striking feature of Standstill #1. The first two pages give Ryker a grand entrance – he appears to be racing through the biker bar, from the entrance to the bar stool. The two-page layout, which runs throughout the issue, speeds up the pace of the issue. Loughridge creates an urgency that has you “on the edge of your seat” before the story really gets going.
These two-page layouts allow Robinson to create compositions that are very cinematic. In a pulled back “wide angle” shot of the biker bar, Ryker is seen sitting at the bar with almost the entire gang staring at him, without sacrificing detail. Robinson is still able to convey Ryker’s arrogant amusement and the bikers’ overflowing hostility, as the extra space prevents his line work from getting lost.
This cinematic feel also allows for more energetic close-ups. Robinson can approach Ryker in profile as he’s thrown against a wall, while also showing the retracted fist of a biker about to punch him in the face. It’s an energetic moment because the one image conveys the entire emotional beat, and that’s something that’s consistent throughout Standstill #1.
The two-page layout definitely speeds up Standstill #1 in the first few pages, but the issue is so compelling primarily because of the main character. It’s worth noting that Ryker doesn’t have a name in the issue. He’s only named in the promotional copy. Whether this was a conscious decision by Loughridge or an oversight is unclear. Ryker’s anonymity in the issue works in a way. As a sort of avenging angel, the blank slate that is Ryker’s identity makes him feel like he’s more than the average person. Ultimately, his lack of a name, for better or worse, is very noticeable.
Honestly, though, it doesn’t matter if Ryker is mentioned by name or not. He’s a character with a dark sense of humor. His insistence on drinks that are unusual for the biker bar is provocative in itself. Ryker then launches into a discussion linking bikers in leather to Marlon Brando as a method actor and why that’s more of a gay style choice. When the biker bar scene is over, before there are any explanations or hints of a plot, Ryker is completely captivating.
Loughridge uses softer tones for his varied color palette. The issue has some pizzazz. What’s most striking, however, is how he highlights important characters in each scene. In the biker bar, the man holding the bloody knife after Ryker leaves is almost in the spotlight. The waitress Ryker talks to in the diner wears a teal dress that completely contrasts with the surroundings. An airplane stewardess wears bright red. The color choices always give the reader a specific focus.
Tweedie’s choice of font is restrained. Standstill #1 isn’t particularly text-heavy, and the two-page layout structure gives Tweedie plenty of freedom to work with. But the panels are still full of detailed art. Tweedie does a good job of arranging dialogue bubbles around them.
