COMICS CAN BE AWESOME (7 December 2020)

Your weekly reminder that comics can be awesome, meta-Batman edition…

penguinbatmobilebatman & robinDynamic Duocarmine infantino

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COMICS CAN BE AWESOME (30 November 2020)

Another reminder that comics can be awesome, this week celebrating the freaky creatures from My Greatest Adventure:

My Greatest Adventuremonstermonstermy greatest adventuremonsters

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COMICS CAN BE AWESOME (23 November 2020)

Just another weekly reminder that comics can be awesome…

transmetropolitanbloodshotmichael del mundo100 bulletsIgor Kordey

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COMICS CAN BE AWESOME (16 November 2020)

If there is one thing Golden and Silver Age cover artists knew was that disproportionally tiny people and oversized everyday objects tend to make for particularly surreal – and therefore striking or amusing – visuals. It’s a motif that never gets old, which is part of the reason 1957’s The Incredible Shrinking Man remains such an enjoyable film! (It also helps that the movie, much like Bong Joon-ho’s The Host decades later, somehow successfully mashes a bunch of conflicting genres: black comedy, family melodrama, sci-fi adventure, monster horror, and existentialist allegory…)

With that in mind, here is this week’s reminder that comics can be awesome, incredible shrunken Dynamic Duo edition:

 

batmanbatmanbatmanbatmanbatman

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COMICS CAN BE AWESOME (9 November 2020)

Your weekly reminder that comics can be awesome, Nick Cardy’s Unexpected edition…

the unexpectednick cardythe unexpectednick cardynick cardy

 

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Taking a break… (November 2020)

It’s getting harder and harder to keep up, so Gotham Calling is going on yet another hiatus.

Like in the summer, I’ll try to keep the weekly COMICS CAN BE AWESOME section alive, though, so that at least you can regularly appreciate some cool cover selections before I return to more extensive posts. In other words, the blog won’t completely die down; it will just rest a bit for a while…

Catwoman (v3) #3

Catwoman (v3) #3
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COMICS CAN BE AWESOME (2 November 2020)

Your weekly reminder that comics can be awesome, free-for-all edition…

Archer and Armstrongmatteo scaleraGeorge PérezpunisherStar Wars

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Neat B-level horror short stories

Last year I celebrated Halloween by posting about ten brilliant horror comic book short stories. I could easily fill another post with ten gems – after all, cool horror anthologies are a dime a dozen in this medium…

Spellboundnightmarethe unseen

However, this time around I’m doing something for the hardcore fans of the genre – those who can have a good time not just with masterpieces, but also with less polished works, disregarding obvious shortcomings in the name of appreciating their best beats.

For people like us, there is more than enough room for uneven, unpretentious comics like the thirteen tales below, as long as they have at least one neat redeeming feature… Hell, in some cases the schlockier bits can actually come across as somewhat charming or as even more unsettling because of their discordant notes. Plus, once you put the medium’s greatest artists on the job, there is always something to appreciate on the page, at least from a visual standpoint!

Tales from the Crypt

‘Voodoo Death!’ (originally published in Tales from the Crypt #23, cover-dated April-May 1951), by Johnny Craig (script, art), Marie Severin (colors), Jim Wroten (letters)

Yes, the Vault-Keeper’s narration can be groan-inducing for those who are not in the right mood, especially the closing puns. Yes, exotic tribes and voodoo rituals are tropes that associate non-white cultures with violence and irrationality (in contrast to the colonizers’ ‘civilization’). But if you’re willing to accept those campy, trashy elements, then ‘Voodoo Death!’ will reward you with a couple of thrills (impeccably rendered by Johnny Craig’s smooth, expressive style) and a genuinely surprising development… The thing is that voodoo and zombies were not as firmly codified in early fifties’ pop culture as they are today, so the story’s mythology actually comes across as quite baffling and original! Plus, I love the fact that, refreshingly, there is no clear moral to this horrorfest, just sheer sadism.

jack kamen

‘Dead Right!’ (originally published in Shock SuspenStories #6, cover-dated December 1952 – January 1953), by Bill Gaines (plot), Al Feldstein (plot, script), Jack Kamen (art), Marie Severin (colors), Jim Wroten (letters)

This one is worth it mostly for the ending, although the ride there isn’t a slog (even if it is pretty linear). Cathy, our lead, is such a gleefully superficial gold-digger that it’s fun to just watch her constantly fight against her instincts, as she dates the kind of man she would never accept if not for the hope of a financial payoff based on a fortune teller’s prediction. The main horror ultimately stems from having to put up with an undesired marriage in the name of subsistence! And although the old gypsy woman is a cringy stereotype, I give it a pass because she keeps screwing with her client’s head…

Haunt of Fear

‘Bedtime Gory!’ (originally published in Haunt of Fear #18, cover-dated March – April 1953), by Al Feldstein (script), George Evans (art), Marie Severin (colors), Jim Wroten (letters)

Reversing the gender dynamics of ‘Dead Right!,’ this darkly comedic story features a truly despicable heel who also marries for money and we can’t wait to see him get his comeuppance. That said, his wife, Lorna, essentially steals the show, coming across as a much more nuanced and fascinating character, not least because of the ‘acting’ conveyed by George Evans’ artwork… You can argue there is too much set-up for such a simple punchline, but I think the result is gratifying enough. In any case, honestly, ‘Bedtime Gory!’ had me as soon as I first read the title!

Bob Powell

‘The Wall of Flesh!’ (originally published in This Magazine is Haunted #12, cover-dated August 1953), by Bob Powell (art), Ed Hamilton (letters)

The main allure of ‘The Wall of Flesh!’ is that it features, well, a wall made out of flesh… living, quivering, pulsating flesh that sucks people in! It may not sound like much, but it’s a memorable visual that more than justifies these nightmarish eight pages, especially given Bob Powell’s vivid, expressionistic illustrations (including a few striking panels signaling the passage of time by merging the victim’s painful absorption into images of an advancing clock). I don’t know who wrote this, but, even though the characters aren’t particularly developed, the decision of framing the story around a beautiful young woman’s rejection of an old mad scientist turned out to be quite inspired, since there is something disturbingly sexual about the whole wall of flesh imagery.

Green Horror

‘Green Horror’ (originally published in Fantastic Fears #8, cover-dated July–August 1954), by Ruth Roche (script) and Ken Battefield (art)

‘Green Horror’ tells us a story about a murdering jealous cactus. Yes, it’s silly and (intentionally) funny, but it’s also pretty creepy, as it is typically the case with tales about murder springing from unexpected places in the middle of a supposedly blissful suburbia. More than anything else, this comic is worth it for the awesome panel in which the cactus wields an axe while a man in a robe contorts his face like Edvard Munch’s Scream and yells: ‘It hates me! Aiiieee!

Reed Crandall

‘The Shadow Knows’ (originally published in Haunt of Fear #26, cover-dated July–August 1954), by Otto Binder (script), Reed Crandall (art), Marie Severin (colors), Jim Wroten (letters)

Another horrifying marriage story. The link between infidelity and murder lent itself to countless variations, exposing the dark undercurrent of bourgeois society – not just in comics, but also in twisted little films from this era that share EC Comics’ sensibilities, like Edward Dmytryk’s The Hidden Room (aka Obsession) or Hugo Haas’ Bait. In ‘The Shadow Knows’ (whose title plays on the catchphrase of the famous vigilante), we meet traveling salesman Eric Cooper, who bumps his wife to be with his latest lover, only to end up being haunted by the dead woman’s lingering shadow. It’s quite a text-heavy piece, but it has some inspired passages (‘Eric’s high-pressure sales technique had been as irresistible to himself as to others. He quickly sold himself on the idea…’). The core attraction, though, is Reed Crandall’s deadpan rendition of the bodiless shadow, eerie and allegorical, so it’s a shame the art ends up suffocated by so many captions and word balloons.

The Thing in the Telescope

‘The Thing in the Telescope’ (originally published in House of Mystery #60, cover-dated March 1957), by Mort Meskin (pencils), George Roussos (inks)

I like this comic’s payoff so much that I cannot resist including it on the list, despite being the less accomplished of the lot… It’s a tight, simple script (again from an unknown writer) about a gang of criminals who come across an ancient telescope and everyone who looks through it gets sacred to death, with a clever O. Henry twist at the end (honestly, I’m not sure how original the twist is, since a variation of it had already appeared at least once, ten years earlier, in Detective Comics #130, but I still say it works quite well in this taut little chiller). I like Mort Meskin’s and George Roussos’ sharp art well enough – particularly the nifty choice of angles! – but there is an inexcusable mistake in their execution, as one panel on the fifth page contradicts the story’s resolution. (When the story was republished in 1972, in House of Mystery #198, the colorist clumsily tried to correct the mistake, but the palette on that version is so garish that you might as well track down the flawed original, which is much moodier.)

neal adams

‘Fair Exchange’ (originally published in Eerie #9, cover-dated May 1967), by Archie Goodwin (script), Neal Adams (art), Charlotte Jetter (letters)

The splash page tells you all you need to know about the premise, with a rich bastard seeking to fight old age by bribing a conflicted doctor into carrying out a medical experiment that involves sacrificing a young man. The following pages then ensue with inevitability: we learn more about how we got here and we wait for the old man get his comeuppance. It’s all fairly clichéd, even if there is an extra layer of resonance once you consider that this jab against the hubris of ageing capitalists ruthlessly trampling over the youth was first published against the backdrop of the generation gap pitting baby boomers against their parents… That said, like with many of Archie Goodwin’s scripts for Eerie and Creepy, the point is to get you involved in a linear narrative and then surprise you with a shocking punchline that comes out of the left field, resulting in a brief moment of satisfaction – one that works to a greater or lesser degree depending on how invested you actually were in the story leading up to the twist. In ‘Fair Exchange,’ that story is illustrated by one of the masters of horror comics, Neal Adams, who throws himself at the material with genuine gusto, so the ironic ending earns, at the very least, a solid laugh!

Adventure Comics

‘Adventurers’ Club’ (originally published in Adventure Comics #426, cover-dated February-March 1973), by John Albano (script) and Jim Aparo (art, letters)

Part ghost story, part hardboiled crime yarn, ‘Adventurers’ Club’ was the first of a recurring feature whose framing device consisted of people applying to the titular club by telling a tale that proved they’d been involved in ‘exciting and unusual adventures’ – in this case, the tale of a gangster seemingly haunted by a girl he killed in a drive-by shooting, which is mostly remarkable because of Jim Aparo’s dynamic art and hysterical lettering. It was a very short-lived feature (as far as I can tell, there was only one further installment, tantalizingly called ‘The Voodoo Lizards!’), but it showed editor Joe Orlando’s enduring trust that Aparo’s style was a perfect vehicle for a certain type of ‘heightened reality’ horror. Having already worked together in House of Mystery, a couple of years later the duo went on to explore Aparo’s horrific talent in another Adventure Comics feature, namely a memorably gruesome run starring the Spectre…

Gerry Conway

‘The Rats!’ (originally published in Haunt of Horror #1, cover-dated May 1974), by Gerry Conway (script), Ralph Reese (art)

A nasty, anti-hippie chiller about how the world is much harsher than what some people want to believe… Politics aside, I’d argue the main reason to track down ‘The Rats!’ is Ralph Reese’s beautifully naturalistic artwork – he’s like a skilled director, equally at ease with intimate domestic drama and with panic-inducing set pieces.

haunt of horror

‘Fright Pattern!’ (originally published in Haunt of Horror #4, cover-dated November 1974), by Russ Jones [as Jack Younger] (script), Syd Shores (pencils), Wayne Howard (inks)

What a splash page, right? This comic about an air stewardess plagued by nightmares that she fears might be premonitory is essentially a pretext for the creators to indulge in a series of eerie hallucinations, which are ultimately the big selling point. The whole thing does end on a sort of poetic note, although it doesn’t feel entirely deserved, given the rushed characterization in the rest of the story.

Heavy Metal

‘Overdose’ (originally published in Metal Hurlant #14, cover-dated November-December 2004), by Jim Macdonald (script) and D-PI (art)

The premise of a drug that induces out-of-body experiences is very cool, as it works visually and it prompts the narrative along. The pacing and artwork also breathe life into the Bonnie & Clyde-style protagonists, creating an effective emotional connection with their joy and frustrations, to the point where I wouldn’t mind spending more time with this couple and getting to know them better. It’s only the jarring, unsatisfying ending that lets ‘Overdose’ down – there is a punchline to this story somewhere, but I’m not sure this is it.

Terror Tales

‘Hunters’ (originally published in 2000 AD #1608, cover-dated August 2008), by Nicolas Jean (script), Yann Valeani (art), and Simon Bowland (letters)

Some may feel that ‘Hunters’ tries to pack too much world-building into just five pages, but I think the convoluted backstory actually works to its advantage. In fact, I love the whole gung-ho, take-no-prisoners attitude, which makes for quite a charged reading experience: it’s as if we have just walked into the middle of a sleazy, violent thriller and jumped straight into the good bits.

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COMICS CAN BE AWESOME (26 October 2020)

After a summer of protests and with the electoral chaos looming in the horizon, it’s hard not to see in each new pop cultural release a contribution to the conversation about the current political moment. With its flashes of police brutality and sense of helpless defiance against the corruption and racism of institutional power, this is certainly the case with Aaron Sorkin’s The Trial of the Chicago 7, a pacy, witty courtroom drama based on the infamous trial that followed the 1968 riots involving activists against the Vietnam War (although, sadly, there is no cameo by the great comic book editor Mike Gold, who was closely involved with the trial). As far as more outlandish genre entries go, though, the most fascinating viewing experience has got to be Gerard Bush’s and Christopher Renz’s Antebellum, which starts off as a deeply flawed thriller before totally redeeming itself in the final stretch (sure, it helped that I hadn’t watched the trailer and didn’t know anything about the premise other than the fact that it concerned slavery…), ultimately doing for Trump era race relations what Get Out did for the Obama zeitgeist.

The first third of Antebellum is just dreadful: the stunning cinematography apes the recent wave of prestige-looking horror projects (The Witch, Hereditary, Midsommar, the Suspiria remake…) in a jarringly exploitative way, aestheticizing the violence against black bodies to a point that could make Tarantino blush; the script is ultra-heavy-handed and historically cartoonish, with its purely sadistic, moustache-twirling 19th century villains immersed in anachronistic imagery that riffs on the Holocaust and Charlottesville while trying way too hard to counter the idealized Lost Cause of Gone with the Wind. The second third goes in a more interesting direction, even if it still feels like it’s spoon-feeding us a ham-fisted lecture on intersectionality… And then something incredible happens. I won’t spoil the twist, but the payoff won me over – not only because it reframed the previous grotesqueries in a satirical light, but also because it ramped up the absurdity into a series of gonzo set pieces. Although awkwardly uneven and often eye-rolling, Antebellum manages to capture the lunatic excess of the current politics of memory in a way that only a schlocky horror movie could!

Speaking of horror, since Halloween is right around the corner, this week’s reminder that comics can be awesome is extra-sized, with twenty awesomely horrific covers:

GhostsActionmarvel talesAdventures into Weird WorldsWitches TalesLost WorldsHellblazerThe Spiritmystery talessuspense comicsout of the shadowsMister MysteryHouse of SecretsAstonishingMysticout of this worldGhostly Tales of the Haunted MansionJourney into Mysteryadventures into terrorPunch Comics

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On Richard Lester’s Musketeers

For a long time, when critics talked about ‘comic book movies,’ they used to just mean silly, exaggerated action films. In the past couple of decades, the term is more likely to refer to a movie that is a direct adaptation of a comic book story or character. In Gotham Calling, I like to explore various connections across these two media, suggesting diverse types of films that should appeal to comic book fans (at least to those who are into genre comics).

Today, I’m adding to that list Richard Lester’s delightful trilogy The Three Musketeers: The Queen’s Diamonds (1973), The Four Musketeers: Milady’s Revenge (1974), and The Return of the Musketeers (1989).

The Three Musketeers

This adaptation of Alexandre Dumas’ classic 1844 novel about four royal swordsmen in 17th century France who undermine Cardinal Richelieu’s plans to expose Queen Anne’s affair with the Duke of Buckingham was apparently conceived, at one point, as a four-hour extravaganza, but director Richard Lester and screenwriter George MacDonald Fraser wisely ended up splitting the project into two installments. As a result, even though The Three Musketeers’ main plot wraps up satisfyingly, that first film finishes with the promise of a sequel, showing us scattered images of what’s to come – like a trailer or, more to the point, a ‘next issue’ blurb at the end of a comic.

Tone-wise, the movies convey some of the full-blown, hell-for-leather excitement of major adventure epics like Richard Fleischer’s The Vikings and Michael Curtiz’s The Sea Hawk, yet they also inject tons of humor into the proceedings. Indeed, between the straight-faced opening of The Three Musketeers and the shockingly grim finale of The Four Musketeers, the bulk of the material feels very much like a sexy comedy interspaced with rollicking action that can match the whimsical thrills of anything on the stands…

hotspur #1Hotspur #1

To be fair, the genre of costumed drama, with its colorful pomposity and ludicrous traditions (by today’s standards), has always lent itself to a kind of joyful slapstick farce. Yet Lester manages to pull off a particularly delicate balancing act, magnificently carried by a cast who is able to comfortably wink at the audience while keeping their dramatic composure, most notably Michael York’s enthusiastic d’Artagnan, Oliver Reed’s pathos-filled Athos, Charlton Heston’s incisive Cardinal Richelieu, Faye Dunaway’s mischievous Milady de Winter, Christopher Lee’s deadpan Count De Rouchefort, and Raquel Welch’s cutely maladroit Constance Bonacieux. (By contrast, Lester’s follow-up historical films verged into one of two directions: Royal Flash is pretty silly while Robin and Marian is surprisingly melancholic).

David Watkins’ cinematography and the art direction by Leslie Dilley and Fernando González are a big part of the appeal as well, especially given Lester’s idiosyncratic way of filming adventure – instead of trying to achieve relentless forward momentum, he was not afraid to occasionally slow things down to linger on atmosphere, with plenty of fun establishing sequences about everyday life in post-Renaissance France, zooming in on the settings and extras… It’s the cinematic equivalent of those comic book splash pages or detailed panels where you find yourself appreciating the intricate backgrounds, taking slight detours from the main narrative. Given their dirty, mundane look, they bring to mind Hermann Huppen’s mesmerizingly down-to-earth artwork in his own unsentimental period pieces:

The Towers of Bois-Maury: Germain The Towers of Bois-Maury: Germain

(Hermann’s talent for crafting devastatingly harsh, realistic landscapes and weather is sometimes used to set up amusing situations, but his sense of irony tends to be more subtle and cruel, closer to Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon than to Richard Lester’s The Three Musketeers…)

In these sequences, the extras are often heard mumbling amusing asides, which, in a comic, would no doubt be depicted through scattered word balloons:

StarslayerStarslayer #11

I like to think this choice stemmed from a working class sensibility, paying attention to the ‘little people’ and the collective rather than just focusing on the main heroes (like many directors do) by briefly acknowledging the subjectivities of servants living in the periphery of the action. Yet perhaps it was just Richard Lester accepting that aesthetic world-building is one of the main reasons viewers watch period pieces, so he might as well let them take in as much as possible. The result is that we do feel like we are inhabiting each place in this remote era. One of Lester’s trademarks was to show us the games people played for leisure, usually variations of tennis (not just in his swashbucklers, but also in the tense present-day thriller Juggernaut and in the uneven political drama Cuba).

I’m also quite fond of Lester’s approach to materiality, as characters keep bumping into disobedient objects or engaging with elaborate contraptions. Among the barrage of visual gags, there are some truly remarkable action set pieces, including a swordfight in the dark and, in the second film, a large struggle on top of thin ice. Again, this reminds me of comics, in particular the European school of physical comedy of an André Franquin or an Hergé…

The Black IslandTintinTintin: The Black Island

As choreographed by William Hobbs, the fight scenes look entertainingly bumbling and grounded, especially when compared to the athletic, acrobatic elegance of old Hollywood takes on The Three Musketeers, like Fred Niblo’s fun 1921 version (with the great Douglas Fairbanks as d’Artagnan) and George Sidney’s goofy 1948 remake (starring dancer Gene Kelly). The swords feel heavy and the movements of even experienced swordsmen do not always work out as they intend, generating both tension and laughs. All this introduces a gratifyingly revisionist level of realism, not entirely dissimilar to the scene in James Mangold’s Logan where the hero fails to drive through a fence or, to use a well-known example from comics, Bruce Wayne’s awkward early forays into vigilantism in Batman: Year One.

The movies’ revisionism also applies to the story’s values, as the script and direction display an ironic distance towards the fact that the supposed heroes are involved in morally dubious conflicts (like the Catholic suppression of Protestant rebels). Even setting aside the generally nonchalant, stereotypically French attitude towards adultery, in this version the Musketeers are dishonorable scoundrels who steal food and, early on, d’Artagnan basically buys a servant (whom he repeatedly treats like shit). Rather than revise the original’s more outdated views – like Athos’ brutally harsh, judgmental behavior towards Milady de Winter – Richard Lester chose to leave those in and thus let viewers acknowledge by themselves (and perhaps laugh at) the relativity of heroism. By the time we get to The Return of the Musketeers, the approach reaches new levels of cynicism, with our heroes presented as even more inept and morally ambiguous as they go up against a villain (a kickass Kim Cattrall) who accuses them of a deed we know damn well they committed (at the end of the previous film).

As far as revisionism goes, however, we are not talking about the downbeat, grimdark type (if you want that kind, you can find it in Robin and Marian). Instead, these films are closer to a spoof, even if not taken to the absurdist extremes of Blackadder, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, or Love and Death, not to mention the outright parody of Robin Hood: Men in Tights.

Three Musketeers 1973     Four Musketeers     Return of the Musketeers

Richard Lester’s trilogy doesn’t merely satirize the 1600s’ French and British monarchies (and Oliver Cromwell’s republic, in the last film). These movies also satirize Dumas’ novel and the multiple iterations of this material – and the wider swashbuckler genre – which have whitewashed or even glorified its values.

The metafictional dimension, acknowledging the tradition of adaptations that came before, can be seen, for example, in The Return of the Musketeers’ cameo by a buffoonish Cyrano de Bergerac part of the joke is that Cyrano is played by Jean-Pierre Cassel, who had played King Louis XIII in the previous movies and, more importantly, had played d’Artagnan himself in 1964’s Cyrano et d’Artagnan (where Cyrano was played by José Ferrer, reprising his role from 1950’s – very witty – Cyrano de Bergerac). And yes, this Easter Egg is the type of intertextual deep cut you often find in mainstream superhero comics.  

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