There is a lovely little moment in the last issue of Jeff Smith’s fairly challenging Rasl comic, where the main character nonchalantly explains what the comic’s title actually means.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
There is a lovely little moment in the last issue of Jeff Smith’s fairly challenging Rasl comic, where the main character nonchalantly explains what the comic’s title actually means.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
When Garth Ennis wrote his first stories featuring perennial Marvel warhorse Nick Fury, there were some complaints that he wasn’t being true to the character, and was being far too vulgar with such a venerable veteran. All that high-tech spying and justifiable mass murder was fine, but the hookers and the drink were unacceptable.
But beneath the typical violent laughs, Ennis’ Fury comics also had his usual storytelling efficiency, humanistic pleas for a little kindness and big things to say about big subjects, and it’s easy to not worry the fact that ol’ Nick isn’t wearing a tight blue spandex uniform, and chases away his nightmares with booze and drugs and whores.
Fury sums up a lot of the true-blue American virtues: he’s hard-working, fair, distrustful of authority (including his own), he’s got guts and hates bullies, and doesn't like to see innocents suffer. But he's also a bad man to have as an enemy, and willing to suffer a little collateral damage to take out a greater threat.
What is particularly interesting about the new Fury comics is that it's all about the failure of that cruel side of the American psyche, with the first six issues of the series looking at two of the American intelligence communty’s greatest failures in the second half of the 20th century, Vietnam and the Bay of Pigs.
A rabid anti-communist agenda was used to justify America's involvement in these two debacles, but after causing untold misery - usually to innocent people on the ground - both ended in failure.
And as America stumbles, so Nick Fury fails too. He doesn’t do anything at the final battle of the first story, taken out by the first explosion, left senselessly dazed for the duration of the fighting, and only allowed to live so he can take a message back to the west. In the second story, his mission is to take out Fidel Castro, and this isn't Inglorious Basterds, and history goes to plan.
Nick Fury is America, and this is where the real intensity of My War Gone By lies. It's not just the violent action scenes, it's seeing the full effect of these grand plans, and the inherent intensity of things going terribly wrong.
As much as those first critics thought Ennis was doing it all wrong, Nick Fury is the perfect Marvel character for this kind of business. He's always been about the shady backroom deals and balls out action for decades, and he's had a buillet in his head since 1944. He's allowed a few vices, with the things he's seen and done, with all the horror of his past deeds now being revealed.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Pass the barf bag, vicar.
Lobo isn't pining away for some chick - He's a primal force of chaos and stupidity. Anything else is fragging ridiculous.
Max Zero - a proud member of the SSoSS - is the Earth-CBR version of Bob Temuka, where it’s 1997 forever!
Saturday, September 8, 2012
I think it was the colours that initially drew me in, beautifully painted art with a colour scheme that hinted at a bright and wonderful future. I trawled through garage sales, flea-markets and newspaper classified ads to find more Eagle annuals. Around that time The Best of Eagle was published. This volume compiled by original Eagle editor Marcus Morris featured various stories and pieces from the original run of the comic (1950-1969).
I had to put the book on lay-by and pay it off with paper run money, but eventually it was mine and I became further ingratiated into the world of Dan Dare. Dare appealed for his heroics and faced danger with an English stiff upper lip.
Unlike many of today's heroes of fiction he wasn't inspired out of any tragedy, his motives were purely altruistic. He was just doing his job. Around this time my father introduced me to 2000AD, handing me a copy of Prog 4 and 9 which - to my surprise - featured a different incarnation of Dare.
A more serious, violent, action packed Dare, completely removed from the original concept other than sharing the same zig-zag eyebrows. This Dan Dare intrigued me, but didn't hold the same interest as the innocent charm of the original. Massimo Belardinelli's exotic drawings were weird and scary and nothing like the traditionally painted Dare I was familiar with.
In the early eighties I picked up the first 100 progs of 2000AD through a classified ad for 10 cents apiece and got to read the further exploits of the Dan Dare of the seventies. I enjoyed the gorgeous art of Dave Gibbons and the sense of danger in these stories. At one point they killed off Dare's entire crew and left him floating in space on a piece of wreckage.
Dare was revived a little while later as some kind of space marshall (under mind control of the Mekon) but the story meandered and was never concluded. I found out later in a Dan Dare annual this incarnation was the same character from the fifties but he had been in a 'Buck Rogers' form of suspended animation after an accident and awoken in the far flung future. The accident required him to have plastic surgery in explanation for the modernisation of his character.
Still in my pre-teens, I also discovered the new incarnation of the Eagle which was relaunched in 1982. The first several issues featured artwork by Gerry Embleton on a new version of Dan Dare, the great grandson of the original character. Embleton's pages were painted and beautifully detailed, recalling the fine work of Dare artist Don Harley in the fifties.
The initial stories were written by 2000ad mainstays John Wagner and Pat Mills and featured the same sense of danger and adventure that infused their work in 2000ad. Within a few issues Dare's nemesis the Mekon had destroyed earth's parliament with a suicide bomber, enslaved the populace of earth, and captured Dare's descendant who faced execution. As a young kid I lapped this stuff up.
Other artists would take over from Embleton within several issues, Oliver Frey, Ian Kennedy and Ron Turner being three that particularly stood out. I stuck with Eagle for a good few years but eventually the stories lost the impact of the initial work, I think when different writers came onboard.
In the years since, I've read Dare in other incarnations, the dystopic take on Dare by Rian Hughes and Grant Morrison, and the recent Garth Ennis and Gary Erskine mini series. These were interesting but I don't think it's possible to tell Dan Dare stories today like the work on the original by Frank Hampson, Frank Bellamy, Don Harley and Keith Watson.
The original Dare was produced in and informed by a post war England, which was a more optimistic and innocent time than today. English artist Chris Weston is the only candidate I'd consider for doing a traditional take on Dare. Weston seems to be one of the few artists that has a passion for the character as he was intially conceived.
In my adulthood I've been fortunate enough to buy an original art board of Dan Dare from 1958, painted by Desmond Walduck from layouts by Frank Hampson. It was interesting to see these lavishly detailed pages were painted on a 1 to 1 scale with how they were reproduced in the comic.
The seller had bought it in 1978 for 25 pounds, a week's wages at the time, and he had to kept it a secret from his likely to disapprove spouse. Consequently I paid a weeks wages for it in 2009 and I too decided it prudent to bring it into our house with utmost discretion.
Matt Emery is the Earth North Island version of Bob Temuka, who picked up a Lion annual from 1963 instead, and fell in love with the dastardly Spider. He's been up to no good ever since...
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Four pins, to be exact – tie-ins to Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’s multi-million selling graphic novel Watchmen. Produced to cash in on its unexpected success, publisher DC Comics decided to class them as promotional material, rather than merchandise, which meant the creators would be denied the royalties their contract promised them. When Moore objected, he was - in his words - threatened by an executive who saw Watchmen as one more company-owned property to be exploited like Superman and Batman, and Moore and Gibbons as modern-day Siegel and Schusters to be shooed away.
Moore said: “I was incensed. I really, really don’t respond well to threats, and I informed the company I had no intention of producing any more work for them and that I was walking away from projects that were already in progress. We had signed a contract that gave us ownership of our characters in good faith. The company had trumpeted it at conventions. But because Watchmen was raking in the cash they wanted to go back to the gangster days. I’d had enough of that at Marvel in the UK, and I made that very clear.”
Richard Bruning, husband of DC editor and Midnight Comics co-founder Karen Berger, had designed the collected volumes of breakout hits Watchmen and Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns and had made friends among New York publishers who were keen to get on board the graphic novel phenomenon. Berger knew the writers who were spearheading the new age of comics and already chafing under the corporate strictures of the industry. Together, accompanied by New Yorker editor Robert Gottlieb - who had taken a personal interest in graphic novels though Art Spiegelman - they stormed the boardroom to propose a new direction for DC.
Gottlieb said: “I discovered Joseph Heller with Catch-22. I knew first-hand the resistance to be overcome when you’re bringing new blood to an industry desperately in need of it. People would rather die the old way than live the new way. I knew publishing, I knew magazines, I knew writers, I knew cartoonists, and I knew that there was an opportunity here to start something big.
It wasn’t an easy sell for a business that had made its millions off owning intellectual property. Comics were DC’s daily bread, but they made their real money from licensing their characters for everything from lunchboxes to Pez dispensers. Cutting off future income streams by giving writers and artists ownership of their own characters was a tough sell and the property under discussion being Watchmen didn’t make it any easier.
Their biggest hit for decades, one that they owned and could make everything from action figures to toasters from, and they were being told to give it up? Where would the lunchboxes of the 21st century come from if they had to get the go-ahead from some longhair writer first?
But somehow a different vision of the future prevailed, at least in part. Seduced by the success that a creator-owned project had brought them and swayed by the argument there could be more, the foundations of a new imprint were laid. It was nothing new to the industry: Marvel had been running Epic Comics since 1982. But this wasn’t about comics. The comics were a loss-leader. It was about books, about a magazine publisher making the jump from periodicals that churned a monthly profit then disappeared to bound volumes that brought in money year after year after year.
And DC, having decided to jump into book publishing, wanted to make a big splash. Which is why Karen Berger jetted across the Atlantic to see Alan Moore.
Moore said: “The visit wasn’t a surprise. V for Vendetta was still being published, The Killing Joke hadn’t been out long and was very successful, I had other projects that were being talked up. I expected to hear about all that, and to hear the same regretful platitudes about the issues that really mattered to me. I didn’t expect to pay very much attention. I was working on other projects, including a film script, and had no intention of returning to work for people whose business plan was ‘Rip off the hippies.’
“So when Karen started by talking about renegotiating the Watchmen deal in mine and Dave’s favour, and followed that up by inviting me to take an editorial role in a whole new line of creator-owned comics, I still regarded it as a supervillain’s trap, like Lex Luthor curing cancer in order to kill Superman. Embarrassingly, I wasn’t very receptive. It was only when I saw Dave’s wide-eyed reaction – and he’s always been a better businessman than me – that I realised that we couldn’t say no.”
Midnight Comics, named in honour of Watchmen’s clock motif and for the late-night adult associations of the name, was a secret for a year. Co-founded by Berger, Moore and Gibbons, with the former taking on the traditional roles of a publisher and editor and the latter two dealing with talent and direction, it was a line with a difference.
Everything would be creator-owned and creator-determined, everything would be a limited series, and everything the line published would be collected in book form within a couple of months of its conclusion. Page rates were low, at the insistence of DC executives taking a spiteful swipe at these uppity creatives, but royalties were high. Ironically, however, the first title of Midnight Comics was a victory for commerce over creativity.
Moore said: “We were trying to make an impact and trying to introduce a whole new way of doing comics to the world, but we still had to do it with superheroes. That seemed a retrograde step to me and there were certainly other projects that I wanted to put my time into. However, the argument for using Watchmen, and the extraordinary audience it had reached, to get people reading this new line was watertight.
"I’d come up with a clever little story, which I was vain enough to want to see in print, and I wanted to undo some of the harm I’d done to superheroes. After Watchmen every superhero had become grim and gritty. I wanted to engage the readers’ imaginations again.
“Looking back, both Dave and I wish we hadn’t done it. It’s a fun series but I think having two Watchmen products out there – even if one of them doesn’t say Watchmen anywhere on the book – diminishes the original. But without Minutemen we might never have launched Midnight and it’s possible I would have lost the rights to Watchmen and V. It was a victory for creator ownership and creative rights won on the back of an artistic compromise.”
Midnight launched with only two titles; the aforementioned Minutemen and the quarterly anthology comic, After Midnight. Anchored by another Moore project, From Hell with Eddie Campbell, the anthology was an opportunity for creators to show what they could do in short form or in longer serials.
For its first couple of years, the artistic roster was equally divided between industry veterans trying their hands at something new and underground artists reaching mass audiences for the first time. Now approaching its hundredth issue, After Midnight has featured the work of Chester Brown, Matt Wagner, Peter Bagge, David Mazzuchelli, Jeff Nicholson, Joe Matt and many, many more, including the first adventure in Frank Miller’s Sin City and Jim Woodring’s earliest Frank stories.
“After Midnight let us test people out, give them a venue for short stories or longer work without putting them under too much pressure. The anthology format gave us a wealth of material and the annual collections gave the contributors a decent return for their money. It was a great solution.”
The conclusion, and almost immediate collection, of Minutemen, got the fledgling line all the publicity it needed. The public who’d lapped up Watchmen and Dark Knight and then wondered where all the other good comics were got its answer. Moore and Gibbons began their new projects less than two months afterwards, but this time both were working with new collaborators: Moore with Bill Sienkiewicz on the ordinary-life epic Big Numbers and Gibbons with Frank Miller on dystopian fantasy Give Me Liberty. Miller, along with several other high-profile creators, had walked away from DC Comics after they proposed to implement a ratings system. To have the creators of the two titles credited with starting the graphic novel revolution back in the fold and producing high-profile, high-quality work kept everyone’s eyes on Midnight.
Big Numbers ended up being the comic that established Midnight’s reputation for late shipping, a problem caused by the switch of artists from Sienkiewicz to unknown Al Columbia then back to Sienkiewicz again, the final three issues credited to both artists and according to them completely collaborative.
By the time it was finished Midnight’s regular series included Neil Gaiman and Michael Zulli’s Sweeney Todd, a retelling of the gory English legend, Bryan Talbot’s formally experimental The Further Adventures of Luther Arkwright, and Howard Chaykin’s Time² series exploring his own family history in his inimitable adventure-liberal style.
But Moore’s proposed follow-up Lost Girls, an unashamedly pornographic comic, was rejected as unsuitable for Midnight Comics by Berger, the first crack in Moore’s relationship with DC that would lead to his leaving the line.
Dave Gibbons's role as artistic director of the line was as much about balancing budgets as giving creatives free rein. He explained: “When you're doing a Justice League series you go with whatever format you're given. When you're bringing your dream project to life you tend to have very definite ideas. Watchmen’s 32 pages without adverts were the template for the line, and the refusal to carry ads was the given reason for the low page rates.
"We accepted that, we wanted to create quality without commercial interference. But in the age of die-cut hologram embossed multiple covers there were creators who didn't understand why they couldn't have it all. My job was to work out what each title needed – actually needed – to succeed, and to fight the battles to make sure it got it.”
Midnight scored its first crossover success with Kyle Baker’s Why I Hate Saturn, originally conceived as a wild adventure romp with car chases and rocket launchers but which developed its sensibility to become a fast-talking New York comedy. Picked up as a sitcom, starring Courtney Cox as Anne Merkel and Jennifer Aniston as her beautiful but crazy sister Laura, it became one of the defining hits of the decade and brought film and TV interest in Midnight Comics’ publications until almost everything in the line was optioned.
At the same time, Midnight was publishing unabashedly uncommercial work like Dave McKean’s Cages and his collaborations with Iain Sinclair, Gaiman and Sienkiewicz’s abstract PARADE, Rick Veitch’s Rare Bit Fiends and Harvey Pekar’s American Splendor, which enjoyed a huge sales boost once the writer became a Letterman regular.
The success of Midnight had, by the mid-1990s, a profound effect on the comics industry. Sky-high bookstore sales and the end of the newsstand market meant comics were selling to fans through thousands of specialist shops. Increased power for creators meant that the industry standard was well on the way to being reversed; fans followed the writer or the artist, not the character.
Following the lead of Gaiman’s Sandman, acclaimed series began to end when the creative teams that made them popular left – what was the point of trying to keep them going when their audience were reading for a specific vision, not for a costumed character? By the late 90s DC was publishing fewer than 10 unlimited regular superhero series. Alongside stalwarts like Action Comics and Detective Comics were limited series by the score bringing audiences new visions of Superman, Green Lantern, Plastic Man and everyone else, and a new issue one with every series didn’t do any harm in a booming collectors’ market.
Continuity, demanded by comics fans but of indifference to the readers buying collections who outnumbered them, was abandoned. How could a 1990s Dr Fate be realistically reconciled with his Golden Age counterpart anyway? For many years a hook to keep the faithful buying, line-wide continuity was abandoned the minute it was hurting sales. Series like Alan Moore and Alex Ross’s Twilight of the Heroes sold far more than any comic which merely curated the past.
Meanwhile, however, Midnight was changing. The overwhelming popularity of Gaiman’s Sandman breathed new life into the idea of a series without set limits, that collected issues in volumes rather than a single book. Writers who’d followed Alan Moore’s route, doing daringly different work for 2000AD and DC’s superheroes, wanted to create series which rolled on for years at a time. But they found themselves at odds with Moore himself.
Karen Berger said: “Sometimes it seemed as if Alan Moore was determined to bring the entire British small press scene with him, regardless of quality. Eddie Campbell’s Bacchus and Alec work fitted right into After Midnight, as did Martin and Hewlett’s Tank Girl, but some of those other guys just didn’t have a lot to say. It was fanzine stuff in comics aimed at a bookstore audience.
"We argued, on and off, for most of a year. I won, and Alan took another step back from the line to become a consultant. That was also when he announced he was a magician and began publishing Lost Girls through Image. He stayed involved with Midnight, though; we were still publishing From Hell in the anthology and running short pieces from him.”
Frank Miller’s Sin City, which began in the After Midnight anthology, published a succession of limited series as did Mike Mignola’s Hellboy and Matt Wagner’s Grendel, which joined the line following the bankruptcy of Comico. Tyrant currently exists as eight volumes and one omnibus and Bissette has promised more. Midnight’s credibility in the publishing industry led to the creation of a new model.
Alan Moore left his editorial position just over ten years after the first issue of Minutemen was published, following an argument about publication of the autobiographical Al Davison graphic novel The Spiral Cage.
“It had been brewing for a while,” Moore admits, “and I’m actually amazed I lasted as long as I did. I’m not an editorial person. I’d been getting more and more removed from the work I should have been doing simply because I didn’t agree with what was being published.
“Preacher, for example, I felt was as juvenile as anything from the Mighty Marvel Age. We weren’t discovering new talents anymore; we were giving writers who’d made their names elsewhere a chance to do something lucrative. Which is hypocritical, I know, because that’s how I began doing creator-owned work. But when that became the purpose of the line then it didn’t need me around.
“I’m incredibly proud of some of the work we published. I can’t imagine Stuck Rubber Baby or Understanding Comics or Joe Sacco’s work coming from anyone else. I think there was a real danger of comics fumbling the ball, of losing the momentum built up with Watchmen and throwing confusing superhero legacy comics at an audience that couldn’t care less about them. Instead we published sci-fi, autobiography, art comics, soap opera, crime…"
Berger agrees: “The superhero business went into meltdown in the 1990s because the speculator boom went bust. We lost thousands of comic shops. But now a comic shop in New York looks more like a bande dessineé shop in Paris; hundreds of bound volumes of comics on every subject imaginable with the superheroes – DC or Marvel – confined to a couple of shelves in the corner. Comics have become the medium they always wanted to be, and Midnight deserves some of the credit. It's incredible to think that it almost never existed because of a bust-up over a few pins.”