This week’s reminder that comics can be awesome is a tribute to Alex Ross’ stunning painted covers – and extraordinary character designs – for Astro City, which beautifully project the series’ magical blend of mundane life and superheroics:
This week’s reminder that comics can be awesome is a tribute to Alex Ross’ stunning painted covers – and extraordinary character designs – for Astro City, which beautifully project the series’ magical blend of mundane life and superheroics:
It’s not just Commissioner Gordon who hates Wednesdays… Life outside Gotham Calling has been extremely hectic and something has got to give, so the blog is going on yet another hiatus.
I have a bunch of semi-drafted posts lined up (more ‘Catching up with crime comics,’ more recommendations for fans of the Coen brothers, more Eurocomics, another reading guide for people getting into Batman, and even some Superman stuff!), so rest assured I will be back with a vengeance, hopefully before the end of the summer. In the meantime, I’ll try to at least keep the Monday selections of awesome covers, so there should be new content every week, even if not much text to go with it…
First Neal Adams, now Tim Sale.
I’ve been meaning to write about Tim Sale’s muscular, stylized artwork for quite a while, but I haven’t gotten around to it and today won’t be the day… But I will say that I have no small degree of fondness for the way he imbued, not just the live characters, but also supposedly inanimate objects with a potent vibrancy (not to mention a symbolic charge). By skewing the lines just enough, Sale could make a pistol look determined or sewer pipes feel haunting and oppressive! Hell, he even turned Batman’s symbol into a menacing grin:
The film. Not the show.
It’s easy to see why Fargo (1996) became the Coen brothers’ most acclaimed picture. The devastating story of a frustrated car salesman (an unnervingly anxious William H. Macy) who hires a couple of thugs to kidnap his wife in order to scam his father-in-law into providing the ransom money – a plan that fails on every level – Fargo is not only the brothers’ most understated, bare-bones thriller since Blood Simple, but also a surprisingly tender look at their home state of Minnesota. The film’s heart and soul are provided by Frances McDormand as Marge Gunderson, a pregnant police chief who is as sharp as they come – certainly more so than the simpletons around her, even if she refuses to rub it in – but who struggles to grasp how evil and mischievous men can be (a struggle encapsulated in the key dinner scene). While less unhinged than their previous movies, Fargo is nevertheless pure Coen, with carefully constructed shots that speak volumes (that opening car trunk…) and the characters’ varied speech patterns mercilessly clashing against each other, not to mention amusing scene transitions and background details (like Scotty’s thing for accordions).
This is also the Coens’ work that has spread wider. In a metafictional follow-up, the dark, quirky film Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter recreates the urban legend about a Japanese girl looking for the money buried in Fargo. And, of course, there was the FX show, which built on the movie’s world, forwards and backwards in time, while delving into its themes and atmosphere. I will dig deeper into the show once I’m done with this series of posts, but for now I’m focusing on a couple of movies and a comic that are ideal for fans of the original Fargo…
Let’s start with the most glaringly obvious recommendation. Directed by the Coen brothers’ friend and occasional collaborator Sam Raimi, A Simple Plan is a deliberately paced dramatic thriller set in rural, snow-covered Minnesota about three average-ish guys (one of them a dimwit played by Billy Bob Thornton, sixteen years before starring in the FX show) who find a bag full of money and bite off more than they can chew when they decide to keep it. Fargo’s echoes are too many to list (there is even a pregnant woman among the leads and a disarmingly gentle-looking sheriff), but the main connection is thematic, with both films contrasting warmth with cold as they examine the clash between crime, morality, and the apparent innocence of small-town America (here, too, the tension stems as much from the threat of violence as from financial need). Although mining the local fauna’s and flora’s symbolic potential, for once Raimi restrains his gonzo impulses, mimicking the style of the Coens’ recent hit yet nevertheless imbuing the characters with sorrowful humanity and emotional complexity even when the plot wheels start to turn towards inexorable tragedy.
My other pick would be John Dahl’s Red Rock West, which opens with a deadbeat Nicholas Cage accidentally stumbling his way onto a hitman contract and then it just keeps throwing new twists at the viewers until the end. Set in Texas, at an intersection between neo-noir and neo-western, Red Rock West is in some ways closer to Blood Simple and No Country for Old Men, but much of it overlaps with Fargo as well. They’re both lean, moody crime flicks with serpentine plots about double-crossing spouses and, again, losers who find themselves way in over their heads… Above all, they appear to share a brazen sense of purpose: these are razor-sharp, ingeniously told tales that deliver the goods without much fuss and are all the more powerful for it.
It’s been a while since I’ve last recommended Stray Bullets, which remains my all-time favorite non-Batman crime comic (with the possible exception of Scalped), and I guess it’s time I do it again, given that series’ Fargo-esque balance of bleak humor and heartbreaking, punch-in-the-gut human drama.
Written, drawn, and lettered by David Lapham – with Maria Lapham credited as producer, editor, and co-designer – Stray Bullets is a long-running series with an impressively consistent creative voice, from the vicious dialogue to the tight, cinematic artwork whose largely narration-free panels almost feel like storyboards (except for the occasional dream sequences or the bizarre comics-within-the-comic). Its underworld of ruthless gangsters and incompetent amateur criminals could easily be set in the Coen-verse, packed as it is with intricate, irony-heavy plots that involve suitcases full of stolen money and shocking – if often amusing – bursts of violence as well as a sprawling, captivating cast who keep surprising you with their actions and reactions (even when they are fully in-character). Then again, don’t expect to find Marge Gunderson here, as practically everyone turns out to be a shitbag in one way or another.
Every issue tells a story that feels both complete (in the sense that it culminates in a payoff) and incomplete (because they always pick up and/or leave behind some loose threads). Add to this the fact that the focus keeps jumping from character to character and, crucially, back and forth in time, and it doesn’t really matter where you choose to start, as you are bound to be confused at first anyway… What’s impressive, in fact, is how effectively Lapham will get you up to speed without resorting to forced exposition, thanks to the strong characterization (you quickly ‘get’ what everyone is about) and to a well-placed trust in readers’ intelligence (we can disregard or fill in any gaps ourselves).
For instance, the (recently completed) latest iteration of the series, an extended arc published separately as Stray Bullets: Sunshine & Roses, chronicles a relentless heist yarn in the early eighties, packed with the usual barrage of sex, drugs, and murder. It’s set between earlier stories – which were first published in the late 1990s – and I would argue the result probably works just as well for older fans (who are already familiar with these relationships and their trajectories) as for new ones (who still don’t know where things are heading in the long run).
This week’s reminder that comics can be awesome is a tribute to the magnificently bizarre creatures Bob Brown drew on the covers of the original Challengers of the Unknown:
(This last one is actually by the great Joe Kubert, but the spirit is the same!)
When it comes to superhero comics – and Batman stories in particular – there tends to be a division among fans between those who privilege more lighthearted fantasy and those who favor grim-and-gritty aesthetics or narratives with literary affectations. I keep ping-ponging between the two camps depending on my mood… It’s not just that I can get a major kick out of both Scott McCloud’s upbeat Superman Adventures and Mike Grell’s revisionist Green Arrow; it’s that I can find self-important proto-realism just as annoying and uninspired as all the silly, derivative dreck that has been a part of the genre from the start.
Then, of course, there are those books that manage to work on both levels. Some of the most deconstructive, sophisticated peaks of this art form double as kickass thrillers packed with fist-pumping ‘fuck yeah’ moments (most famously Watchmen and The Dark Knight Returns, but also their descendants, like Alias and Jupiter’s Legacy). At the other end of the scale, among the most escapist, unabashed pulp you can occasionally find all sorts of stimulating subtext and imagery.
For an example of the latter, let us take a close look at ‘Execution on Krypton!’ (World’s Finest Comics #191, cover-dated February 1970).
The script, written by Cary Bates and edited by Mort Weisinger – one of the main architects of Silver Age DC – operates on that era’s core principle of constantly prickling readers’ curiosity. While the cover (rendered by Curt Swan in his classic, elegant style) suggests that the Caped Crusader and the Man of Steel will travel back in time to the planet Krypton before it exploded, where Superman’s father will condemn them to death, the opening splash offers an alternative teaser, as a flashforward shows Supes’ parents – Jor-El and Lara – running a crime school (i.e. teaching students to commit crimes) in front of our baffled heroes. Thus, readers are presented with a couple of counterintuitive premises before being launched into the proper story…
Not that the story itself wastes any time before setting up new intriguing elements. All you have to do is turn the page and you’ll see Lara and Jor-El (who died on Krypton years ago) briefly materialize in present-day Earth, coincidentally near Batman and Superman, who overhear them plotting a crime. The Kryptonians’ apparent criminal activity, mind you, shocks the heroes – and, according to the omniscient narration, should presumably shock readers – way more than the fact that these two dead aliens from Superman’s past suddenly pop up out of nowhere, because in the first decades of the Comics Code Authority characters – and consumers – were more used to dealing with magic than with moral ambiguity!
These aren’t the most interesting mysteries though, as we will get pretty direct explanations for them later on. In turn, my curiosity is much more engaged by all the questions the comic raises (often implicitly) but doesn’t bother to answer, letting our imagination run wild instead. Just take the first panel in the page above, where Superman – along with his Bat-buddy – nonchalantly flies to another galaxy while simultaneously travelling to the past by using his super-speed to break ‘the time-barrier.’ This was such a common occurrence in the life of pre-Crisis Earth-1 Superman that none of them treats this as remarkable in itself, much less reflect upon all the science fiction paradoxes that come with such carefree trips back and forth across the 4th dimension… Hell, there isn’t even the smallest qualm about the possible effects of changing history, as immediately after arriving the World’s Finest duo set out to squash a student demonstration (or perhaps they’re just so damn pro-establishment they’re willing to risk disrupting the whole space-time continuum in the name of order… decades ago… in a distant planet!).
Indeed, I hardly had time to wrap my head around the whole spacetime trip when my mind was thrown into a whole new tangent by the student protest thing. On the one hand, the old version of Krypton had traditionally been depicted as a surrealist technological utopia full of strange sci-fi concepts (check out all the futuristic architecture!), so it isn’t too startling that they have robot teachers. On the other hand, the veteran art team of penciller Ross Andru and inker Mike Esposito draw human figures that look not only relatively naturalistic, but also modelled on the clothing fashions and haircuts of the youth in late sixties’ USA, creating an obvious parallel with the then-current student movement. So, besides puzzling over how robotized higher education works and what the protesters are specifically rebelling against (is it the dehumanization of teacher-student relations? robots’ strict pedagogical methods? or perhaps the way mechanization is destroying the prospect of future uni jobs?), a part of me also wonders what compelled 21-year-old Cary Bates to write a comic that seems more sympathetic toward the robot teachers than toward the human students…
The angle of the panel above (a reverse-shot from the last panel in the previous scan) could suggest a cold, creepy distance in the way the staff literally looks down on the students (arguably validating the latter’s resentment) and Jor-El’s thought balloon is ambiguous (is he worried about the teachers or the protesters?), but the rest of the sequence leaves no doubt about the overall moral economy. Rather than talking to the demonstrators about their concerns or even trying to mediate a solution, Superman and Batman immediately identify them as a threatening mob and proceed to physically undermine the protest – in a move later ripped off by Judge Dredd comics, they weaponize a weather control tower, using a shower of silver rain as the equivalent of a police water cannon (yes, silver rain… Bates doesn’t miss the opportunity for further whimsical touches, identifying other artificial weathers as glow snow, sleet pellets, and scented wind). Ideologically, this feels reactionary as hell, but it is completely in-character with the personality of the two heroes, who at the time were aggressive defenders of law-and-order and proud protectors of the status quo.
The politics aren’t the only thought-provoking bit of characterization going on here. Because of Krypton’s red sun, Superman loses his powers and has to act more like a strategic-minded athlete. Meanwhile, because of the the heavier gravity, Batman brought anti-gravity boots and manages to float in the air (in order to distract the students, who sound like a bunch of stoners), so it’s as if the two superheroes have switched roles. What I most like about this is how smoothly they adapt to the change, quickly coming up with a plan based on their new abilities, thus displaying the resilience and resourcefulness of characters who have gotten used to transforming or swapping bodies on a monthly basis – and, crucially, who are used to working together in odd circumstances (this was before the mainstream decided these two longstanding friends worked better as natural enemies).
More than any individual idea, however, it’s the sheer barrage of throwaway ideas that makes World’s Finest Comics #191 such an enjoyable read. For instance, in the page below every single panel contains at least one concept that would fill most of an issue in today’s age of writing-for-the-trade and decompression, starting with Superman’s hilariously convoluted explanation for their attire (come to think of it, why is Batman wearing his suit anyway? I guess it gives him confidence no matter where he is…).
I love everything about this sequence, from Batman’s utterly unphased acceptance of Jor-El’s invisibility ray down to Superman’s inner monologues finally acknowledging that there is something a bit weird about meeting your dead parents before you were born! Out of all these dreamlike moments, only the one about the cinema actually pays off down the line – the rest just seem to be there for our instant delight and wonder.
Such a relentless pace of blink-and-you-missed-it ideas that aren’t there to be developed or explored but rather to create a sense of overwhelming otherness is the kind of stuff Grant Morrison and Warren Ellis would later build their careers on. And, of course, Andru and Esposito – plus whoever did the groovy colors – help nail each beat with their fantastic designs…
Following a slice of social commentary (surprisingly liberal, at least compared to the previous scene’s hippie-bashing), the sequence culminates in a meal at Jor-El’s and Lara’s place, where the transparent chairs and the triangular table hover in the air:
(A couple of panels later, we get to see the floating chairs from below as they all relax in the garden, foreshadowing the tale’s final image. It’s one of many beautiful panels that combine mundane postures with out-of-this-world visuals without making much of a fuss about it.)
After this very short breather, the adventure plot leaps with forward momentum on a panel-by-panel basis. Batman and Superman secretly follow the Kryptonian couple through the planet’s fire jungle, only to be caught in an underground school – because the cave’s walls are equipped with ‘echo-magnifiers’ that give them away – where Jor-El sentences them to an execution via a ‘death-cube,’ as seen on the issue’s cover. We thus get a fun deathtrap escape scene (a staple of Batman and Superman comics) but the whole thing turns out to be a test (a typical Silver Age fake-out) leading to the World’s Finest team enrolling in the crime school, where they soon manage to get the highest scores… After all, not only are they are seasoned crimefighters (Batman even has a degree in criminology), but they’re both geniuses who had studied Kryptonian tech in their spare time. (A montage serves to give us more glimpses of this incredible world, including offbeat versions of safecracking and counterfeiting. The students’ final scores are tabulated on ‘electronic data-blocs.’)
This is where the story takes a pretty unexpected turn, as the reason Superman’s parents had been teaching crime is finally revealed. The petrified body of a godlike alien explorer named Calox has been found in the Kryptonian island of Bokos, but the locals chose to merely keep it in a museum, so Jor-El is planning to steal it in the name of science (he’s convinced he can bring Calox back to life and thus obtain from him the ultimate secrets of the universe!). So, you may ask, was the crime school specifically set up in order to train people to commit this daring heist? The answer is yes, but it’s also much more elaborate than that, because Krypton is still full of surprises:
Once again, faced with this ludicrous island where dishonesty is not only legal but *mandatory*, I cannot prevent my thoughts from flying all over the place, imagining how such a society came to exist and how it can possibly operate.
Having established the rules in the three panels above, however, ‘Execution on Krypton!’ proceeds without blinking. The story has fun with the notion of its wholesome heroes being forced to commit thefts in order to blend in and then has them pull off a wacky caper involving the type of switcheroo that was par for the course in World’s Finest Comics. And if you have any lingering questions, you can settle them with the editor, in the letter pages of future issues:
There are plenty of snarky websites out there making fun of old – and new – comics and movies, pointing out plot holes and implausibilities, but fans know the real fun is trying to find a hidden logic and to speculate about the ramifications of what is there on the page. Rather than challenging the work or acting superior to it, such thought experiments are part of a game between readers, creators, and editors that continues after the story is over, as you can see from Weisinger’s answers in this letter column.
But the story isn’t over yet! Just when you think Batman and Superman have achieved their goal, Cary Bates introduces further drama and complications in the penultimate page:
(There is clearly a lot going on in Superman’s head, as his thoughts on the left panel confirm that he decided to travel across time and outer space on little more than a whim, without fully thinking through the implications…)
A deus ex machina sort of saves the day, as the Caped Crusader and the Man of Steel are conveniently teletransported to back to Earth, in 1970, through an experimental time-vortex that the army just happened to be developing. The odds behind such a turn of events are, of course, preposterous, but in Bates’ defense he doesn’t let his protagonists off that easily… The vortex will automatically transport them back to Krypton – or, rather, it would have done, if not for the timely intervention of General Hill, who quickly realizes Earth can’t afford to lose these two heroes and, therefore, takes drastic measures in his own hands:
This final twist is the perfect capstone to an epic yarn that kept surprising me at every turn. General Hill, a character that had never showed up in the comics before (even in this comic, we had only seen him in a coma), turns out to be the main hero, sacrificing years of research – and, as one hysterical scientist points out, a 22-million-dollar investment – to save Supes and Bats!
If you try really hard, you can squeeze two thematic readings out of this dénouement. According to the most generous one, while the World’s Finest duo’s top motivations throughout the tale are spying on Superman’s dead parents and stealing a god, in a roundabout way they do end up achieving something positive by causing a serious blow to the US military-industrial complex at the height of the Vietnam War. Alternatively, you can read ‘Execution on Krypton!’ as a frank acknowledgement of the military’s own priorities: sure, R&D is important, but the main thing is securing a force that can effectively contain student protesters.