November 20, 2003
Last week, my column introduction was a kind of ironice, rhythmic rant about things I detest in the comics industry today, and its fandom. One wag called it a “Comics Masochist’s Dirge” or something, which I liked. If you didn’t know, I often approach the intros, and sometimes the “Full Bleed” essay at the end, when I have one, as my own approximation of a weblog. I don’t have one, and don’t feel the need to write down my every thought for all to see, though I respect those who do it well. The other problems for me with the blog is that it forces one into a kind of contract with the reader where there must be new material every day. Not for me. But I do like, in my own small way here, to fire off some thoughts when they’re pressing and passionate.
But it occurs to me—well, it occurred long ago and hasn’t gone away—that what sustains this column, is balance. At least, that’s what I’m after. I don’t want readers to automatically know what books I’m going to like or dislike, and I don’t care if they agree with me, as long as they find the reviews thoughtful and interesting.
And it further occurs to me that what really sustains comics as a creative enterprise, is balance as well. As easy as it is to label the superhero comics of the 90s as largely “grim ‘n gritty,” there were plenty that weren’t like that at all, and were popular. Kurt Busiek’s and Alex Ross’ MARVELS used a visual realism never before accomplished in the medium, but mainly to make the larger-than-life characters of the Marvel Universe more real, without diminishing them. Busiek’s and Pat Olliffe’s UNTOLD TALES OF SPIDER-MAN also had a sweet tone to it, and a sincere attempt to bring the more wholesome values of the book’s early '60s setting into the '90s.
In watching several hours of Johnny Cash-related programming on CMT last weekend (I was lucky enough to happen across it), I thought about sincerity, and conviction, quite a bit, and the thoughts carried through in my reading of the new Chip Kidd-edited Alex Ross art book, MYTHOLOGY, reviewed below. It seems that a number of members of the blogosphere were thinking about this book as well, or at least the generally thoughtful David Fiore generated some discussion due to an ill-considered piece comparing the heroic figures and low-angle compositions of Ross’ work with that of notorious Nazi propagandist filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl. Since the only similarities are in the compositions, and I guess the way both used their tools to idealize their subjects, Fiore can be dismissed out of hand on this one. Not like Riefenstahl owns the technique, which is in itself innocent, and there’s nothing negative at all in Ross’ work, save for the religious undertones, if that’s not your thing. Sean Collins has some smarter thoughts on the subject, though he goes for some cheap yuks at the end. I mean, I’ve seen plenty of hot gym teachers, like my stepfather, and why can’t superheroines look like female guards at correctional facilities? Not everyone can be une petite jeune fille like you, Sean. I kid, because I care, but seriously, the criticism of the everpresent ambient light in Ross’ work is valid, though just as valid for Norman Rockwell, who knew his way around a brush, and Ross addresses the very point in the book. So nyah!
MYTHOLOGY: THE DC COMICS ART OF ALEX ROSS, Edited by Chip Kidd. Pantheon Books. $35.00
What Alex Ross does, as an artist, is to cast the fantastic four-color heroes that so shaped his values from childhood into photorealistic paper movies in a valiant attempt to make these myths as relevant today as they were in the 40s, 50s and 60s. What Chid Kidd does, as a designer/editor, along with his skilled photographer partner Geoff Spear, is to create books with a powerful friction between the most slickly commercial artwork and the
gritty nuts and bolts of the creative process. Together, the three men have combined these aesthetics for an art book that rises above being merely a collection of fancy superhero paintings into a cogent examination of a deeply felt artistic vision both sacred and profane.
Whether one likes Ross’ comics storytelling is, of course, going to be a major factor in whether one purchases the book, but it’s not really necessary to enjoy the book itself. There is a short new comic story here written by Kidd, in which Batman has to bring a mind-controlled Superman to his senses through the use of kryptonite, and it’s enjoyable enough team-up story, nothing fans of either character haven’t seen before.
The book begins with a concerted--and in this case, successful—effort to establish Ross as a superhero true believer from early childhood, finding in the noble Superman and persistent Batman models by which he could accept his minister father’s values, free of thorny theological questions. Ross’ faith in the power of these modern myths is key to understanding his work. The intensity of his conviction in something so easy to make fun of, along with his decade of fame, makes him an easy target, but it’s hard to find any harm in it.
Kidd discusses the four Paul Dini-scripted tabloid graphic novels featuring the four biggest DC characters, beginning each chapter with looks at Ross’ designs and opinions on DC’s major characters, down to second-stringers like Zatanna (with the face of Ross’ wife) and Doctor Fate. It’s remarkable that Ross has used the same models for Superman and Batman all this time, and the consistency makes them that much more believable, as does the normal body proportions. Why would Superman pump iron? Readers will learn that all Ross’ comics art is inked first, then painted over, almost always in the versatile medium of gouache. His thumbnail sketches—about 1” x 2” for each page—are actually as detailed as many artists’ full pencils. There are also some startling photos of life-sized wax figures of Superman and Batman that look completely real. Kidd often shows representative comics art from the characters’ old books to compare and contrast with Ross’ approach, which is always respectful and generally gets at the heart of what makes these old scenes work. His female characters manage to be full-figured but never salacious, often crossing their arms and holding up their chins in a no-nonsense manner, and with real, different faces that actually suggest lives lived beyond the confines of paper.
There is a wealth of commission work to be found here, even some non-DC stuff like a huge tribute to Hanna-Barbera superhero and science fiction cartoon characters, and perhaps the most heavily populated cover of any superhero book, the collaboration with George Perez on the cover to the collected edition of CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS. Then, it’s on to explorations of the significant other Ross DC works, KINGDOM COME, his Alan Moore-inspired, Mark Waid-written apocalyptic superhero sermon, which notably “stars” his father as the lead human character and reader entry-point to the book, and UNCLE SAM. It was not only Ross’ art on KINGDOM COME—which challenged him to redesign almost every DC hero, and create several new ones—but the sincerity in his and Waid’s story that made this a smash hit despite its uncomfortable central idea of Superman as Jesus. Faith of a different kind—faith in the enduring ideals of a beleaguered U.S.A.—drives UNCLE SAM, Ross’ deeply felt—and relatively ignored—collaboration with writer Steve Darnall.
Ross is, simply, an incredibly gifted artist, and this book is a sumptious feast of much of his best work in his chosen milieu, superhero comics. And it also becomes a fascinating immersion in one artist’s purity of vision, and sincere belief in the power of superheroes as modern myth and moral exemplars.
THE MATRIX COMICS by Larry & Andy Wachowski, Geof Darrow, Neil Gaiman, Bill Sienkiewicz, Dave Gibbons, Peter Bagge & Others. Burlyman Entertainment. $21.95
When one thinks of comics licensed from films these days, the first though will probably be of a Dark Horse offering like the many unnecessary STAR WARS offerings, sprinkled with a few good stories here and there. There’s not too much else going on. But in the late 80s, horror author/filmmaker Clive Barker was popular enough to warrant some big talent on books adapting his short stories and with new tales in his HELLRAISER universe, these being recently reprinted. It is these high-quality works that one is reminded of when
reading this first collection of comics stories inspired by THE MATRIX films, all of which were originally created for TheMatrix.com. This volume represents work spanning the five years the site has been in existence, and includes work from a wealth of talented creators, including some true visionaries. Best of all, one needn’t be intimately familiar with the complicated storyline of the film trilogy, as these stories are all original and easy to follow.
The Wachowskis, who started before film in comics, coincidentally working on comics for a Clive Barker imprint at Marvel in the early 90s, begin the book with “Bits and Pieces of Information,” illustrated by Darrow, who not coincidentally has been the lead designer of all the films, and who has a comic coming from Burlyman early next year. “Bits” recalls the very first recorded instance of a machine—in this case a butler robot—exerting its own will to survive, even if it has to kill. Darrow’s cold, grotesque style is welcome to return any time.
Sienkiewicz’s “Sweating the Small Stuff” is remarkable mainly for the art, but he does have the theme of hope in the midst of bleak inhumanity down pat, and Sean McKeever strikes an unusual cord with “A Life Less Empty,” in which a female hacker is (like Neo) shown the door of perception by Morpheus…but she refuses to enter, lacking the courage, and she knows she will regret this decision even as she makes it. Gaiman is joined by Sienkiewicz and Gregory Ruth for “Goliath,” an illustrated text story, a marvelous tale of illusory time-passage and love, one man’s determination to live a meaningful life in mere moments.
John Van Fleet’s “Burning Hope” is a more straightforward action story, as are David Lapham’s “There Are No Flowers in the Real World” and Ruth’s “Hunters and Collectors,” previously unseen Zionites separately taking on Sentinels or Agents because the heroic resolve, or denial, is so utterly human. Dave Gibbons’ “Butterfly” is one of the more elegantly designed stories, and the most dependent on elusive symbolism, but it comes off as a bit precious, while Paul Chadwick’s “A Miller’s Tale” more effectively uses bread—the staff of life—as a symbol for the human abilities to share and to give. Only Bagge’s “Get It?”, an amusing but obvious conspiracy joke story, seems to miss the intensity and sincerity of the Wachowskis’ vision. For the most part, all the tales are at the very least solid genre work, but many find the talents responding to the movies’ themes to produce work of very high quality.
CODEFLESH by Joe Casey and Charlie Adlard. AiT/PlanetLar. $12.95
When the stories here were first published, in DOUBLE IMAGE #1-5 and then DOUBLE IMPACT #6-8, I was turned off pretty quickly. Part of it was the
format, as it’s hard to tell a compelling superhero story in twelve pages, especially when each story is pretty much wrapped up by a fistfight. Also, I think Casey was doing his usual hype thing at the time about what a unique, mind-blowing comic this was, and he’s not even close. That said, the whole thing works a bit better in the collected format.
It involves bail bondsman Cameron Daltrey, whose relationship to his stripper girlfriend is on the ropes because of the late hours he keeps at his job. The reason for the late hours is that not only does he post the bonds, he gets in costume and drags in any of his clients who skip bail, all of whom are superpowered to some extent. It’s not clear if Daltrey is, or if he’s just a good fighter.
So we have a basically good guy in a curious costume (white with an inexplicable UPC code on the eyeless facemask) who’s also a bit of a thrill junkie, fighting menaces straight out of a WEB OF SPIDER-MAN ANNUAL. The first story is a pretty poor start, actually, as Casey goes to some pains to establish the seediness of the L.A. setting, with strippers snorting coke, flashing their tits, swearing, and then Daltrey’s battle with a sluglike bail jumper is ended with a bag of salt poured over the guy, as if a mildly sluglike appearance made this method a no-brainer choice. It’s sloppy comics logic, but the stories do pick up in quality from there. The main problem is that Casey doesn’t get anywhere before the thing is over, the book having moved from Image to Funk-O-Tron, which reportedly couldn’t pay the bills on time. The stories are then just Daltrey taking on second-rate villains and beating them handily, while his girlfriend exits his life, and he finds he doesn’t care that much. What’s here is appealing enough, though Adlard’s appealingly grubby style nonetheless is dull in action scenes, but AiT should probably have commissioned some all new material to make this an actual graphic novel and not a series of shorts that are over before it gets good.
THE IRON WAGON by Jason. Fantagraphics Books. $12.95
The wonderful Norwegian cartoonist Jason is best known for his two previous graphic novels, HEY, WAIT.. and SSHHHH!, works of heartbreak and loss, and he also is quite a good gag cartoonist, though those works have yet to be shown to an English-speaking audience. Now, he explores the mystery genre, as well as his country’s literary roots, with a graphic adaptation of Stein Riverton’s 1908 novel of the same name.
The presentation is excellent, the stark line and spare landscapes given an even more somber mood by the use of sienna as the one color. But for all Jason’s talents, the story is slight and archaic, the identity of the murderer obvious partly due to a lack of complexity in Riverton’s plotting, and partly due to the thousands of other mysteries with similar plots that have been published since 1908. There’s a bit of Gothic spookiness, a bit of symbolism and misdirection, but Jason is only able to make this material of moderate interest at best.
Next Week: I’ll be going way, way back in comics history to review Milton Caniff’s STEVE CANYON: 1947 (and possibly 1948 if there’s time). I’d also like to crack open Gilbert Hernandez’ PALOMAR, but it’s a 500-plus page monster. I don’t want to rush through it just to get a review done, you know? There’ll be other stuff reviewed, regardless.
And now, I’ll leave you with what I’ve come to call “Beauty Shots;” that is, really pretty comic art wherever I find it, and this time I looked no further than Alex Ross’ MYTHOLOGY, reviewed above. This shot is from KINGDOM COME, with one of Batman’s crime-stopping robots, modeled on the 1950 Batmobile.
Chris Allen
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