Archive for category comics
Reading Comics: Free Talk on Monday Night
This Monday night I’ll be giving a free, casual talk at North Fitzroy library explaining once and for all: what’s so good about comic books, anyway? Here’s the details:
Reading Comics with Martyn Pedler
7pm, Monday August 9th
240 St Georges Rd, North Fitzroy Vic 3068
In the spirit of Thunderdome, I’ll be splitting the night down the middle. Half on the best of the indie / alternative scene and the particular joys of the comic book medium, and half on how to wade into the regularly insane world of superhero comics. Feel free to come along and tell me about whatever favourites I’ve missed.
Some exclamation points to get you excited:
Doom Patrol! American Splendor! Hellboy! Astro City! Jimmy Corrigan! Batman: Year One! From Hell! Casanova! Bottomless Belly Button! All-Star Superman! Eddy Current! Sandman! David Boring! Zot! Probably some X-Men, too!
If anyone’s bored in Melbourne on Monday night, it’d be great to see you.
Shiny, Shiny Cowboys
Right now, DC Comics must be hoping that all publicity is good publicity – even if it’s of the oh-god-please-make-it-stop-worst-movie-of-the-year-kill-me-now variety.
The Jonah Hex movie has just been released, starring Josh Brolin as DC’s Old West anti-hero. It is, apparently, hellishly awful. I haven’t seen it yet, but I’ve already decided to forgive it some of its apparently glaring flaws – if only because it Todd DeZuniga says it was such a thrill to see his name in the credits. He’s the artist who co-created Jonah Hex way back in 1972, and he deserves all the thrills he can get.
To capitalise on the film’s release, DC have released a new hardcover graphic novel called No Way Back – a companion to the regular Jonah Hex series that’s been running for fifty-something issues now. Just like the series, it’s a solid example of stripped-down genre storytelling. The fact that almost every issue of Jonah Hex is a complete story, done-in-one, means it ditches most of the pleasures of ongoing continuity; instead, its writers – Justin Gray and Jimmy Palmiotti – thrive on the tension that exists between repetition and variation.
Another corrupt sheriff, another bounty claimed, another woman who can’t be trusted. How do you make each different than the last?
The best thing about the graphic novel, though, is that DeZuniga returns to draw it. His artwork is sketchy and unpredictable: lines like they’re cut into the page, angry faces half-formed, all perfect for capturing the filth of Jonah’s world.
That’s why it’s entirely ridiculous that it’s printed on shiny, shiny paper.
DeZuniga’s art is fundamentally wrong for this plasticky stock. I know it seems like a superficial criticism, but as I read it dragged me out of the story like high-pitched squealing layered under a favourite song.
I’ve talked before about how some comic books – once intended to be disposable at best – sit uncomfortably in enormous, expensive hardcovers. That’s why I gave full credit to DC for its refusal to overly fancify its recent omnibuses collecting Jack Kirby’s Fourth World saga.
(Yes, “fancify” is a word. Maybe you should buy a fancier dictionary and look it up.)
They’re printed on something like regular newsprint, just a little thicker. This decision caused what critic Tucker Stone called “the irritating paper debate”:
“…meaning that a lot of random websites and Amazon reviews are still crying foul about how DC decided to print these Kirby books on what seems to be all that Baxter paper left over from the 80s.”
I mean, how did “shinier” become synonymous with “better”? It’s not, no more than television in 16:9 widescreen is somehow automatically of higher quality than what’s shot in good old-fashioned 4:3.
I’d say that when even the cover of your graphic novel is faux-aged – with small tears and scuffed corners pre-added for maximum Old West authenticity – maybe it’s a sign you should rethink your high-gloss interior sheen.
For best results, read Jonah Hex: No Way Back after dragging it for a few miles behind your horse.
Batman Cares
When I was chatting with Dylan Horrocks about his newly reprinted Hicksville collection, I quizzed him about his time writing Batgirl for DC Comics. The following didn’t make it into my Bookslut piece, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
“When I was writing stories set in Gotham City, I was very conscious that the whole Batman ethos presents a vision of the modern urban environment that I don’t think is true. I don’t mean that people dress up in tights and capes – people do! It’s that it presents the city as a kind of urban jungle, full of predators preying on innocent citizens. They’re poisonous, they’re corrupt, and so on.
“And the only way to protect innocents in that kind of setting is to be more violent than those predators. You have to become a predator who preys on the predators. That’s what Batman is. He uses violence – really nasty violence – and his stock and trade is torture.
“I was writing Batgirl at the time of the Abu Ghraib scandal. I felt like this vision of how the world works presented by these comics went perfectly with the one the Bush administration was pushing on us. We’re engaged in a war on terror and, in the comics, Bruce Wayne is engaged in a war on crime. So it’s not just that I rejected Batman’s tactics – I rejected that whole view of the world.”
He’s not wrong. I mean, I love Batman – if pushed, I’ll admit that Batman might be my favourite character in the entirety of fiction – but he’s not wrong. One of the things about these iconic characters, though, is that they’ve been around so long that there can never be one coherent ideology throughout their thousands and thousands of stories. It’s how the Huffington Post can run a piece suggesting Batman would be pro-immigration and anti-jail for drug offenders, while conservative newspapers happily claimed The Dark Knight as a blockbuster with a Bush-friendly subtext.
So allow me to offer up proof that Batman cares, and from an unlikely source: the infamously grim Batman: The Killing Joke one-shot from 1988.
I know, I know. It’s the Batman story where poor Barbara Gordon gets crippled, right? And maybe raped? All in the Joker’s bid to convince Commissioner Gordon that the only thing between sanity and madness is “one bad day”? That’s the one. Even its writer, Alan Moore, doesn’t like it. He says it’s “a terrible book. I mean, it doesn’t say anything. It’s talking about Batman and the Joker, and says that yes, psychologically Batman and the Joker are mirror images of each other. So?”
Ignore all that – even Moore – and remember how The Killing Joke begins with Batman visiting the Joker, imprisoned in Arkham Asylum. “Hello,” Batman says. “I came to talk.” And he continues:
“I’ve been thinking lately. About you and me. About what’s going to happen to us, in the end. We’re going to kill each other, aren’t we? Perhaps you’ll kill me. Perhaps I’ll kill you. Perhaps sooner. Perhaps later. I just wanted to know that I’d made a genuine attempt to talk things over and avert that outcome. Just once.”
Sure, it turns out that Batman’s not talking to the Joker at all, but just a stooge in white facepaint who’s taken his place while the Joker organizes the lovingly-drawn horror that follows. That’s not the point. I can enjoy the gritted teeth of near-fascist Batman; I can enjoy the gaudy and ludicrous BIFF! KAPOW! 1960s TV Batman; but my favourite Batman is the one who’ll do anything to avoid more violence and death…
…even sitting down with his psychopathic arch-nemesis in a heartfelt – and inevitably pointless – attempt at conversation.
My favourite Batman is the one who hates goodbyes.
Brightest Day and Dead Baby Birds
The first page of Brightest Day #0 made me laugh out loud. It’s the first volley of a more traditionally ‘heroic’ era for DC Comics superheroes – and it opens with a baby bird falling out of its nest and striking a tombstone with a spatter of blood, dead.
I feel better already.
Admittedly, Brightest Day co-writer Geoff Johns has said that the tone of the book is “not necessarily optimistic”. It does, however, arrive as a cheerier sequel to his hearts-torn-out-and-eaten-in-front-of-their-owners storyline Blackest Night, and showcases a dozen resurrected characters suddenly pardoned from the growing bodycount of recent superhero stories.
The narrator of the parodic Ambush Bug: Year None put it like this in 2008: “Squeamish, gentle reader? Then it may be time for you to give up reading graphic literature, since we have truly now entered… the Guignol Age of Comics.” Look, you really need to see the font for the full effect:
It’s not just blood and gore that make some squeamish, but also the actions of the heroes themselves. Marvel is promoting its new Heroic Age – a “throwback to the early days of the Marvel Universe, with more of a swashbuckling feel”, according to editor in chief Joe Quesada. Have comic books become so compromised that announcing “heroes will be heroes again” deserves a headline in the mainstream media?
Many trace this grim-and-gritty superhero trend back to comics like Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns and Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’ Watchmen in the mid-1980s; Moore says he suspects “that the existence of Watchmen had pretty much doomed the mainstream comic industry to about 20 years of very grim and often pretentious stories…”
Everyone would have their own list of superhero stories gone wrong. Personally, I think that Kevin Smith’s Batman series The Widening Gyre seems to have been written just to prove that Frederick Wertham was right about creepy superhero sexuality. I cocked an eyebrow when the alternate-universe Captain America purposefully used a kindergarten full of children as cover during a firefight in Ultimate Avengers #4. Hell, DC just published a story in which a hero murders a villain while quipping “For justice” – a catchphrase associated with their kid-friendly Super Friends title.
I’m torn, though, whenever I feel the urge to complain about what’s being done to these superheroes. In my last column for Bookslut, I talk about alternative superheroes and “underwear perverts”, like James Kochalka’s Superf*ckers and Garth Ennis and Darick Robertson’s The Boys. I end up saying we shouldn’t be so precious about ‘perverted’ superheroes. It’s very difficult for a single story – or even a decent-length run – to do any lasting damage. Superheroes have “existed for too many years, through too many stories, at the hands of too many writers and artists to be corrupted by swear words or a sex scandal.” That goes for Marvel and DC’s own stories, too.
I don’t want to be a they’re-raping-my-childhood! hysteric. I’m all for violence, gore, and death – I’m actually murdering someone as I type! I’m just tired of the so-called “real world” intersecting with superhero stories in the most grim and least interesting ways. This quick, lovely piece by David Uzumeri summarises it best. Comparing Naoki Urasawa’s Pluto to Grant Morrison and Frank Quietly’s All-Star Superman, he writes:
“Books like Watchmen or Identity Crisis take that tack with American superhero material; they’re both about scratching under the shiny veneer and finding the rotten underside of a metaphorical golden age, about how, in a grown-up world, pragmatism trumps idealism.”
If idealism can triumph anywhere, shouldn’t it be in superhero stories?
(Oh: the baby bird in Brightest Day #0 is magically resurrected a couple of pages later! So, uh, no harm done.)