Quickies

Elsewhere: I reviewed Marvel Boy: The Uranian #1 for Comics Bulletin.

Link: Colleen Frakes has a new comic called "Basket Ogress" in progress, which you can see here.  Looks good.

And here's another cool-looking webcomic: Steve Bissette's "King of Monster Isle".  Sweet!

Non-comics talk: I just watched a movie that I really liked, but seems like something that appeals very narrowly to my sensibilities, so I have no idea if anybody else will enjoy it.  It's called Visioneers, and I think it was a straight-to-DVD release from 2008.  It stars Zack Galifianakis as a desk drone working for some sort of society-controlling corporation that appears to limit everyone's desire to express themselves or think independently in an attempt to increase productivity.  The result is a surreal, sterile environment where people kind of twitch their way through their days without experiencing anything resembling real emotions, and people have started to explode from the stress of suppressed feelings.  It's bizarre as all get out, and full of weird details, like the way the company founder mispronounces "chaos", or Galifianakis' brother showing up as the leader of a religious cult based on pole vaulting.  It's also very slow-paced, allowing its setting to unfold over a long time, so you only slowly realize how strange everything is.  There are a few bits that are kind of on the nose, like the founder confessing that he would like to remove emotion altogether and turn people into cogs in his machine, or Galifianakis' wife (Judy Greer, in one of her more understated roles) complaining about being numbed into complacency by lattes and TV shows.  But it's a pretty damn unique bit of social commentary, and I dug it.  Who knows if anybody else will though.

Shorter reviews, hopefully:

Prison Pit, Book One
By Johnny Ryan


Maybe it's a generational thing, a group of comics creators of similar ages and backgrounds all working at the same time, but the "Dungeons & Dragons" comic seems to be a growing genre of late, with Alex Robinson's Lower Regions probably being the prime example.  And here's Johnny Ryan with his take, and it's as over-the-top and bodily-fluid-obsessed as you would expect if you're at all familiar with his work.  There's pretty much nothing to the comic except a tough, nameless bruiser being thrown onto a prison planet and fighting a succession of other psychotic freaks, until the volume ends with the promise of more to come (which might or might not be true; in what seems to be a never-ending parade of guts-n-gore, there could be ten more installments or there could be none, with little difference either way).  It's amusing enough for what it is, but that seems to be an especially well-drawn version of the contents of a fourteen-year-old's notebook, scrawled on wide-ruled paper while bored in study hall.  And sure, it looks great, whether Ryan is depicting prehensile intestines enveloping our "hero" in a suffocating cocoon, limbs being severed by a torrent of sharpened pus, a desiccated skeleton nailed to a cactus, an armored body made entirely out of semen, or a full-page depiction of a barbed penis.  But what's the point, seems to be the question, if one decides to fret about such things.  Worries like that are pretty silly though; Ryan seems to be enjoying himself here, and those who share such memories of role-playing adventures will probably feel right at home.  Even as a less-nostalgic outsider to such a scene, it's fun to see what sort of depravities will spurt forth from Ryan's imagination next, but as nice as it looks, it's lacks the satirical bite of his Angry Youth Comix.  It's fun for what it is, but what it is isn't very substantive.  Of course, neither is most of the entertainment we crave, so it's probably best to either enjoy it or move on.
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Grandville
By Bryan Talbot


Ah, but here's some solid genre entertainment that everyone can (or should) enjoy!  Of course, that genre (alternate-history furry steampunk conspiracy espionage action-adventure, perhaps?) doesn't really exist outside this book, but if Bryan Talbot wants to kick-start it, more power to him.  Like most all of Talbot's work, this has the appearance of something laboriously crafted down to the last brush stroke and dab of (virtual) paint, and it ends up being riotously entertaining, a grand jaunt through a weird alternate Victorian-era Europe populated by animal-people (and the occasional human).  The protagonist is a badger named Inspector LeBrock of Scotland Yard, and his investigation into the apparent suicide leads him to uncover a conspiracy that goes all the way to the highest levels of power in France (which has conquered England in this world), and then take it on near-singlehandedly in one quite-awesome action setpiece after another.  There's a little bit of Sherlock Holmes here, and probably some other influences from various European comics (cameo appearances are made by a character from Maus, Omaha the Cat Dancer, Spirou, and Tintin's Snowy, who actually gets a significant role in the plot), along with a bit of post-9/11 political commentary, but all that matters is that it's a fast-moving, tightly-plotted, surprisingly violent yarn set in a gorgeously-detailed environment that's bursting with life.  There are already hints of a follow-up, or possibly even an entire series of LeBrock's adventures, and there's little that would be more welcome.  Bring on the sub-human uprising, says I.

The Spirit: I miss Will Eisner

Elsewhere: I reviewed Incognito #3 at Comics Bulletin. Also, I wrote about last week's Dollhouse at The Factual Opinion.

Links: It turns out that "Veronique Tanaka", the creator of the graphic novel Metronome, was fictional, with the actual author being Bryan Talbot. How about that. I was interested in that book before, but now I feel like I should try to seek it out.

I found this article by Paul Gravett, about Italian cartoonist Gianni DeLuca's adaptation of Hamlet, to be rather fascinating, with some incredible examples of the book's artwork and lots of examples of other works that use similar techniques.

A blog called Awesome Engine is doing a series of posts on Go Nagai's Violence Jack, and it's pretty interesting stuff. I don't think I've read anything by Nagai, but the examples here are pretty nuts, full of post-apocalyptic violence in the manner of Kazuo Umezu.

Online comics: Evan Dorkin has a short comic up at TCM's Lost Scenes site, imagining a bit from 2000 Maniacs, and the latest MySpace Dark Horse Presents has a comic by Farel Dalrymple. Good readin'.

Okay, here's some babble about a stupid movie:

The Spirit

Directed by Frank Miller

2008

What was Frank Miller thinking? Actually, that's not the question, since it's pretty obvious that Miller was making this movie solely for himself; rather, we should ask why anybody would sink millions of dollars into his ridiculous vision. It obviously wasn't a good decision, since the movie bombed big-time, but that's something for the bean-counters to worry about; we can just bask in the resulting stupidity and try to figure out what the hell is going on.

The thing is, Miller is a terrible choice to adapt anything by Will Eisner. The former's comics are pretty much completely bereft of the latter's humanity; trying to create a mash-up of the two styles is near-impossible, and now we have the evidence to prove it. Miller has taken Eisner's characters and setting and removed most anything resembling Eisner's original creation, transporting them to the world of Sin City while trying to retain a distractingly broad sense of humor. It doesn't work at all, but it's a hell of a crazy thing to witness.

The tone of the movie is all over the place, veering from the grim-and-grittiness of The Dark Knight Returns (or, more appropriately, All-Star Batman and Robin) to over-the-top silliness, often in the same scene. Gabriel Macht, playing the title character, gives lots of Batman-esque voiceover narration (or just talks to the camera) about how Central City is his lover, and his mother, and his obsession, and, I dunno, his snuggly teddy bear. He's so serious about his mission to fight crime (which, other than a single mugger, seems to consist only of Samuel L. Jackson's Octopus), but then he'll start mugging and acting clumsy, in an apparent attempt to reference those Eisner-drawn images of the character shrugging or rolling his eyes. An early fight scene with Jackson sees him spit out lines like "I'm going to kill you all kinds of dead!" and spend thirty straight seconds repeatedly punching his adversary in the face, and then he gets whacked in the crotch by a giant wrench or bonked on the head with a toilet. It's downright whiplash-inducing.

Miller does try to cram in a lot of Eisner creations, including a bunch of sexy dames, but other than Eva Mendes as Sand Saref, most of them seem like window dressing. Sarah Paulson's Ellen Dolan is the good girl. Scarlett Johansson's Silken Floss is the bad girl, Jackson's sidekick. And beyond that, it's little more than cameos, with Jaime King playing Lorelai Rox as a sort of spectre of death rather than a siren-ish criminal, and Paz Vega nonsensically dancing around for one scene as Plaster of Paris (which is a terrible character name, even if Eisner came up with it). And don't forget Stana Katic as rookie cop Morgenstern, who manages to make a uniform and flak jacket look like a leather catsuit. They're all just there to look hot though. Mendes does try to make her performance fit the varying tone of the film, even though she's a pretty poor actress. And in an odd twist, a photocopy of her ass ends up being a pretty key prop. That was just one moment that made me wonder what the hell I was watching.

And hell, the plot itself is pretty bonkers, somehow mixing in mad science and mythology with the crime aspects of the original stories. The Spirit is now more of a superhero, with a regenerative healing ability that he shares with his nemesis, the Octopus, who is a mad scientist that gave him his powers and also shares them. And they're busy fighting over a vase containing the blood of Heracles, which will grant immortality. I guess this is Miller's attempt to do something a bit more comic-booky than his usual hardboiled violence? Like most of the movie, it really doesn't work.

Really, the only thing that does work is Samuel L. Jackson, who throws himself into his character, giving a strange, cartoony performance that seems to be the only thing actually keyed into Miller's "vision". He shouts and cackles like a madman, he changes into a series of ridiculous costumes, he obsesses over eggs for some reason, he violently murders his army of cloned henchmen (all played by Louis Lombardi) whenever he gets upset. It's hilarious to watch, but like the rest of the movie, it can be a bit much.

I suppose a word could be said about the look of the movie, but if you've seen any commercials, you know what to expect; it's basically Sin City, with possibly a bit more (virtual) urban backdrops. It can be pretty distracting, with the occasional cut to white-on-black silhouettes, or spot color highlighting the bright red of the Spirit's tie or the bright white of the soles of his sneakers (I don't know why that would be worth highlighting either). There are a few images that are meant to be homages to Eisner, like sewer grates or curved lampposts, but it's really all Miller, all the time.

So, I don't know, I really can't recommend this movie, at least not without a multitude of caveats. It's certainly a unique work, and the majority of the appeal is seeing what ridiculous, moronic thing Miller will do next. If that sounds like a good time to you, then by all means, see it. But don't expect it to be good.

Alice in Sunderland: My fragile mind has been sundered

Once again, this might not be too coherent. But what are you gonna do?

Alice in Sunderland
By Bryan Talbot



This book is crazy; it's just packed full of information, and it's enough to make your head swim just trying to keep up with it. And it's certainly a strange idea for a comic: Bryan Talbot gives a tour of his hometown of Sunderland, England, focusing on its historical importance, but especially its connections to Lewis Carroll and his books, especially Alice in Wonderland. Who knows what gave Talbot the idea to do something this bizarre, but it works pretty damn well, probably due to his skill as an illustrator and graphic novelist. Not to mention his sense of humor; he makes it a pretty enjoyable experience rather than just a barrage of facts. But I'll get to that later.

The book is presented as a performance at the Sunderland Empire, a famous theater in the area. Talbot, in an apparent effort to make this as solipsistic as possible, casts himself as both the performer:



and the sole member of the audience:



Then, in an especially "meta" move, he introduces a cartoonist version of himself who is drawing the whole thing:



This version eventually gets dubbed the "Pilgrim", as he walks out his front door and spends the book giving us a tour of modern-day Sunderland. The Performer mostly sticks to the past, but that's not always the case; sometimes they "switch roles", as it were. But together, they give us as complete a view of the area and its history that they can. Most pages are collages of pictures, with information in word balloons and occasional appearances by one of the Talbots (sometimes making use of a pointer). Here's a typical page:



It's hard to choose a good example, since most of the book looks like that. Sometimes the images in the collages reproductions of historical illustrations or old photographs, others are Talbot's drawings or landscape photos that have been run through a Photoshop filter. It's all very nice-looking though, demonstrating Talbot's skill at collage and at conveying information. At times it gets a bit tedious, with tons of facts being thrown at the reader. But Talbot seems to understand this, and he seeks to liven up the "performance" by doing some short comics, usually adaptations of stories. Early on, he does a hilarious Mad Magazine-style adaptation of the "Once more unto the breach!" speech from Henry V:



Those panels crack me up. In other places, he adapts Lewis Carroll's poem "Jabberwocky", or presents the story of Jack Crawford in the style of British boys' adventure comics:



And plenty of other breaks in the main "narrative", including bits in which audience-Talbot (or the Plebian, to go along with the Performer and the Pilgrim) heckles the Performer. Or a scene that I've heard talked about on other blogs, in which the real-life Talbot wakes up and wonders what he's doing spending years of his life making this comic for which he seems to be the only audience. But then he's visited and reassured by the spirit of Scott McCloud:



That cracks me up every time. Another bit that I liked was the Tintin-style depiction of a trip Talbot took to Morocco:



There's lots of stuff like that, and it's all very interesting. But so is the main content, whether about the history of England, ranging from the stone age to the present (Talbot's depiction of the Norman Conquest is especially cool), or about the life of Lewis Carroll and Alice Liddell, his muse and inspiration for the famous character, or about the current geography of Sunderland and the surrounding area. One of my favorite bits was the Pilgrim's tour of a "sculpture trail" in Sunderland's port, accompanied by the artist who designed it and his collaborator, the area's "crimewriter-in-residence". I loved seeing the artwork and hearing the artist's descriptions of their intent. And this 3-D "realspace" comic strip sculpture is really cool:



It made me want to go visit the area if I'm ever in England. Well done, Talbot.

So it's an incredible experience, and kind of a trip through Talbot's head. I thought the ending was kind of strange though (the first one, that is). In an odd shift in tone, Talbot talks about the political opposition to immigration, both current and historical, and how it's ridiculous. It seemed like he was trying for a moving ending to his tale. Luckily, after we're presenting with a "The End" page, audience-Talbot complains, mocking Talbot's self-seriousness. This leads to the real ending, with a fun summary of the real themes of the book.

But even if it seems to drag, and might get slightly dull in places, it's a hell of a read. It's a huge book, 11 x 8 inches with over 300 full-color pages, well worth the money spent (especially since I got a significant discount on Amazon). And libraries are always an option. So I say check it out, since there aren't very many comics like it. Talbot is one of the modern masters of the form, and it's cool to get a tour of his obsessions. Now I just have to pick up Luther Arkwright...
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Whew, that was a crazy one. More reviews to come, but probably not until tomorrow.

The Tale of One Bad Rat: A quick review, with emphasis on paneling

I just read Bryan Talbot's The Tale of One Bad Rat the other day, and it kind of blew me away with how good it is. I'm kind of late getting to this one, but I'm glad I did. It definitely has me salivating to read Alice in Sunderland.

For those who don't know, it's about a homeless teen runaway who is obsessed with Beatrix Potter. She left home due to sexual abuse by her father, which resulted in some apparent mental illness and a distrust of anyone who offers help. Talbot describes how he researched the psychological effects of sexual abuse, and it really shows, as he gets into Helen(the runaway)'s head in a very realistic manner. Well, as realistic as you can get when she's seeing visions of giant rats.

The art is absolutely beautiful, with well-defined characters and meticulously detailed landscapes, especially in the final chapter when Helen makes her way to Beatrix Potter's hometown and explores the countryside where many of Potter's tales took place. When she confronts her demons, we get this amazing scene of her previous world shattering:



That's the panel I was talking about yesterday; it blows away any other contenders for my current favorite panel. Wow.

So for anyone who hasn't read this, I urge you to check it out. I got it from the local library, but it's definitely worth the purchase. Enjoy!