Four decades ago, when Martin and Arlana first succumbed to the lust of their loins, he froze " literally " and nearly died. A frightened Arlana was informed by her father that she possessed "the chill," a supernatural power spoken of in Celtic Druid legends. Today, she and Mr. Flaherty " neither looking a day older since 1967 " are collecting souls as a tag team: She seduces some man, and while they're in the throes of passion, dear ol' Dad emerges from the shadows with a pointy stick and an intent to impale. They are, in the words of Martin, "mass-fooking-murderers."
In other words, it's as if "Species" were tossed about in noir dressing, and garnished with green clovers. Starr clearly has fun with the comics format, relishing in the opportunity to play around with a plot that, in strict prose form, might sound silly. However, in the realm of graphic fiction, anything goes. Despite the saucy subject matter, he keeps it just grounded enough from veering over-the-top.
His partner in crime here is artist Mick Bertilorenzi. Although he lives in Italy, you wouldn't know it from the grimy, rain-soaked Big Apple he draws here, in ferocious black and white. His illustrations make the sexy story sexier, the scary parts scarier. "The Chill" is a winner all around, good for more than a few shivers.