The Unfunnies prioritizes shock value over substance, presenting a series of grotesque scenes in lieu of a plot or compelling protagonist. As someone who appreciates underground comics, horror films, and "extreme" literature (also known as splatterpunk), I’m open to gritty themes when they offer an interesting perspective. However, The Unfunnies falls flat in that regard.

Unlike the cream of the underground comic or horror crop—which uses disturbing content to challenge the audience—The Unfunnies frequently employs cartoonish dialogue as a jarring contrast to its dark subject matter. Characters often break the fourth wall in the style of vintage Gold Key or Archie comics, but this is juxtaposed with disturbing contexts, such as a character being arrested for possessing child pornography. While this contrast can make certain scenes unsettling, it quickly becomes apparent that this is the only brush in Millar’s palette, and it grows tiresome.

Even when a more intriguing supernatural horror storyline emerges toward the end, it remains bogged down by filler content and shock tactics. A more structured approach with developed character arcs and organic plot progression could have elevated the series into a memorable horror comic. The premise—a cartoonist’s fictional world degenerating as he becomes a serial killer—is strong and could have provided a solid foundation. But rather than exploring that concept, Millar leans on disjointed, depraved vignettes, making the series feel more like a string of tasteless sketches than a cohesive story.

Millar has stated that The Unfunnies was intended as a comic counterpart to disturbing ensemble films like Happiness or Magnolia. Unfortunately, it lacks the believable character motivations and thematic interconnectedness that make those films work. Instead of resonating as an ensemble piece or anthology, it comes off as a scattered assortment of sketches made solely to offend.

Nick found some shrooms last night... 🌙