Buff Soul

Eisner winner Romanova follows Goblin Girl with another exceptional autofiction, this time set amid the hedonism of Austin’s SXSW festival. Nursing a hangover, Moa vows to “take it so damn easy” in Austin, but relaxation isn’t on the itinerary with her friends and travel partners Åsa and Lina, whose band Shitkid is playing the festival. Hosted by 1980s–1990s alt-rock luminaries turned middle-aged dog dads (including King Buzzo, frontman for The Melvins), the trio plunges headlong into afterparty excess, with side trips to a desert shooting range and a rodeo. Things escalate when they connect with Dylan, a guy from Åsa’s past with a heroin habit. Moa’s inevitable comedown—tears, puke, a possible concussion, and a “massive shame tsunami” following a threesome—dredges up still-raw grief over a friend’s death and forces her to reassess the “self-imposed chaos” in her life. Romanova’s SweeTarts-hued Austin skylines evoke Art Deco and faded Trapper Keepers crossed with Ralph Nagel posters, while her distinctive character designs—long-limbed, elven-faced, with outsize honey bun ears—perform expressive marvels. Amid her candid reckoning with addiction and anxiety, Romanova is also bracingly witty, with nimble banter and blunt punch lines delineating the highs and lows of her central characters’ fierce friendship. Over a winding trail of vomit, snot, and tears, Romanova’s girls stumble toward messy but clear-eyed self-recognition. Like the title suggests, this one has spirit to spare. (Aug.)