Opus 94: Opus
94: MAD'S SPIDER-MAN, LARSEN'S DRAGON, IDA RED & BASTARD SAMURAI (July 5). In No. 418, Mad "squishes"
Spider-Man. Dick Debartolo writes and Tom Richmond draws
a take-off on the movie, crammed with the usual sophomoric parent-baiting
so-called humor, and then, later in the book, Sergio Aragones
takes "a look" at Spider-Man. The best thing about the movie parody
is in the last panel wherein a back-handed tribute is paid to Steve
Ditko. Aragones' take in his usual devastatingly silent comedy is on
the character rather than the movie and is funnier. Aragones' "marginals"
continue to infest the magazine's pages, but, alas, they're now being
reproduced so small that my ancient eyes can barely make 'em out....
According to Robin Snyder in the current issue of The Comics,
his monthly first-person history of the medium (with the first-persons
being, usually, participants in the actual history they relate as well
as being the tale-bearers), Bob Cosgrove is the only commentator
on the Spider-Man movie to have noticed that the celebrated "falling
tray" sequence (wherein Peter Parker moves fast enough to catch all
of Mary Jane's lunch items when they fall off her tray) is a borrowing
from the late Robert Kanigher's Silver Age Flash origin story.
Kanigher was a frequent contributor to Snyder's on-going history-by-the-eye-witnesses
venture. Subscriptions to Snyder's newsletter are $25 for 12 issues
(usually 8 pages/issue) from Snyder, 2284 Yew
Street Road, #B6, Bellingham, WA 98226-8899.... Erik Larsen's Savage Dragon
is moving, inexorably, towards its 100th issue. In Nos. 98 and 99, Finhead
begins to unravel the mystery surrounding the presumed destruction of
his world that resulted in his being transported to some sort of nightmare
universe where he was being attacked by monstrous beings on every page.
This out-world sequence was rendered in the old-style Marvel manner-fisticuffs
by the drove, six equal-sized panels to a page, all flash and filigree
and very little of the subtle sorts of storytelling Larsen was so adept
at in the book until then. In the last few issues, however, he has revived
his pacing and page layout mannerisms a little, and the book is better
for it. As for the story itself, I'm sure it is intriguing to time-travel
enthusiasts, but my old brain can scarcely get around such concepts
(what sort of action in the "now" undoes an action in the "future"?),
and even though I've followed this title almost from the beginning,
I have trouble remembering who all the characters are and what their
relationships may be. I admit, however, that this is my failure, not
Larsen's. People in their dotage, like me, should not comment on complicated
intellectual exercises that they can't keep up on. Something about an
evil twin, though. It'll all be revealed in the giant-sized No. 100,
which looms, even as we speak, on the horizon.... Paul Dini and Jason Bone
have teamed up to bring us Mutant, Texas: Tales of Sheriff Ida Red.
In the first issue, we watch Ida lose her parents during some sort
of alien encounter after which she's raised by Tia Oso, the Bear-woman,
near the town of Mystic, which, due to assorted cosmic and atomic energies,
has been transformed into a town of mutants (half-animals and occasional
cactus-people) called Mutant. As she grows into womanhood, Ida wonders
what became of the mysterious power she possessed as an infant, and
by the end of this issue, she's retrieved the power. More
to come. Bone's artwork, in the "animated Batman style," is a
deft display of bold relatively simple linework, expertly applied, often
revealing, with a subtle touch, a character's personality in, say, the thrust
of a hip or the akimbo of an arm. Nice. Then there are exchanges like
this to warm the cockles: "Just simmer down, Beau," says Sheriff
Wade Brunt; "shouting won't help." "Simmer, nothin'," says Beau. "We've
lost five head of cattle this month!" "Two head on the same cow," chimes
in Beau's paramour, seeking to be helpful. Meanwhile, Mike Avon Oeming
(co-writer and inker) and Kelsey Shannon (co-creator and penciler)
continue their pyrotechnics in the second issue of Bastard Samurai.
The pages are drenched in solid black and successive scenes are tinted
in monochromatic variations. This book is another of those in which
the visual effort is to convey as much as possible with as little actual
artwork as possible, and these two are masters at it. A
stunning display. And in this issue we begin to understand how
the Samurai of the title came to be, meeting his "familiar," Toshi,
who keeps him alive. "You are my job," she says. This coupling is intriguing
and promising. REPRINT REVIEWS. Mark Tonra's James, now in paperback (128 8.5x9" pages;
$10.95 from Andrews McMeel). Minimal visuals.
Bare bones. Spare. Pre-schooler romance,
Mom and self. Learning life. Minimalist technique works in a visual
mode but, as you can tell, not in the verbal. We have scarcely words
enough to describe the pictorial delights in James, a comic strip
cast into a hostile world just eighteen months ago, on November 13,
2000. To say that James is a kid inhabiting the age between toddler
and preschooler only hints at the scope of the strip. And if we add
that Tonra habitually represents his title character with but 18 lines,
we get a little closer. But only a little. Like all his species, James is exploring
the world and himself, testing his capacities and his understanding
by impinging, relentlessly, upon his playmates and their understandings
and his parents and theirs. "Hey, Mom!"
James yells. "What's up with the world?" he continues. "Plenty," his
mother replies. "I had my suspicions," James says. This is Tonra's third try at syndicated
fame and fortune. He did the superbly minimalist strip Top of the
World for two years a couple years ago; and before that, in 1995,
he did Jack & Tyler-all the while doing gag cartoons for
magazines (for which the National Cartoonists Society gave him a category
award in 1997). James is rendered in another variation of Tonra's
spare style, reminiscent, this time, of the champion cartooning minimalist,
Britisher Kenneth Bird, the Punch cartoonist who signed his work
"Fougasse." James, Tonra told an interviewer
when the strip started, "looks almost the way a child would draw it."
Well, not quite: there's a canny sophistication in these few lines that
no child could readily achieve. Tonra is a new father, whose son, James,
inspires the strip. "The things I write about really are a direct result
of watching him," he said. Seemingly, this sort of thinking represents
a reversal of an earlier conviction that governed Top of the World,
in which two convicts try, endlessly, to escape from prison and their
guards try to prevent them. Tonra acknowledged at the time that Top
ran counter to a trend in comic strips that held a mirror up to everyday
life. "Dilbert is one of the more
brilliant and very funny examples of this trend,"Tonra told Patrick
McDonnell in Cartoonist PROfiles (No. 117, March 1998; back issues
available at www.cartoonistprofiles.com).
"But," Tonra continued, "I don't always want to see my life in a comic
strip. I see my life every day." With Top, Tonra aimed to amuse
by plumbing "another world" from the everyday world readers all occupy.
It was "escapist" entertainment (sorry) in more than one sense. But the strip failed after a couple
years. So now, Tonra is doing a "real life" strip. Or is he? Tonra felt
that McDonnell's Mutts took place in another world; ditto Peanuts.
Perhaps it is the viewpoint that is "other" not the situation. And
James, giving us the viewpoint of a precocious child experiencing
the world for the first time, is an insightful "other." Tonra deploys the resources of his medium with
telling effect. As James acquires knowledge of his world, he forms his
philosophy of living. Both learning and philosophical formulation take
place in the succession of panels that time James' discovery and, then,
his revelation, each integral to the multi-panel form. Playing with a yo-yo, he says: "I used
to be discouraged by failure." Then, swinging the yo-yo around: "I've
since learned to stay the course." The yo-yo spirals around him like
a swarm of tiny planets: "Regardless of defeat," he continues, looking
a little rattled now. And then, in the last panel, "tied up" by the
yo-yo string, "Fortune favors the delusional." As usual with the best examples of
the cartoonist's art, the pictures-the yo-yo and its embracing string-contribute
content necessary to understanding the humor. But sometimes, the medium
contributes only the timing of the gag. "Wake up!" says James at the beginning
of a parade of five panels with him looking out at us in each. "Eat!
Live! Eat!" he commands. "Live some more! Eat again!" he continues;
then, "Sleep!" Finally, his conclusion: "Let's keep doing this until
we get it right!" On another day, we meet Noah, a friend,
who has a gerbil in his shirt. It got there by way of the sleeve. "Does
he bite?" James wants to know. Noah: "Nibbles." "What's the difference,"
James asks, "between a bite and a nibble?" Noah: "Friendship." Last
panel, James beaming: "Best learned at a young age." On another occasion, James, looking
directly out at us, announces: "I love this shirt!" Then, in successive
panels, he continues his explication: "I'd wear it every day ... including
Sunday ... if my mom would let me!" Concluding, "'If' rules the world." James is about love, too. James rejoices
in being carried around by his mother. And when he proclaims, standing
on one side of a line drawn in front of him, "I finally crossed th'
line ... there I was ... here I am ... individual ... autonomous ...
independent," in the last panel, he is much smaller as he says, "Miss
you." Tonra's minimalist pictures play a
decisive role. Sometimes, they depict the punchline
itself. James approaches his chest of drawers, talking as he goes from
one panel to the next: "To dress..." he says, "or not..." opening a
drawer, "...to dress," taking out a pair of pants, "...that is the question!"
he finishes, putting his pants on his head like a hat. The spare visuals foster a similar
elliptical verbal content. One week, James experiences a "sinking feeling"
and decides to stay in bed. On the second day, we watch his bed for
two panels, then see his head pop up from under the covers. In the fourth
panel, he's back under the covers, saying, "Too much too soon." On another day, James is having a disagreement
with his mother. "More," he says. "Less," she says. "More." "Less."
"More." "Less." In the last panel, James' shadow says, "Problem?" To
which James replies, "More or less." In Tonra's most unusual trope, James
carries on numerous exchanges with his shadow, which quickly becomes
a "character" in the strip's cast. James' mother is another fairly regular
presence. And then there's the mysterious "curb kid," heard but never
seen; Martha, a sassy girl; Erik, an eccentric; Gordy, the underachieving
overachiever. Despite the white space that predominates
in the strip, James (who has been described as Calvin without Hobbes)
has plenty of company. Grown-ups appear occasionally, and the kid has
the assortment of friends and hangers-on I mentioned. The most promising
of these, however, is his own shadow. There,
perhaps, a Hobbes is lurking. You can see more at www.jamesfans.com.
Or you can buy this delicious book. And while we're loitering at Andrews
McMeel, here's the 23rd collection of Bill Amend's FoxTrot
strip (128 8.5x6.5" pages in paperback, $8.95), taking its
title from a sequence in which father Roger writes a spy novel-His
Code Name Was The Fox-in which he, Roger, is the heroic protagonist.
"'Danger' is my middle name," this doppleganger tells a winsome secretary,
looming over her, "-that and 'handsome.' And 'brilliant.'
And 'very suave.' Shall I go on?" Amend's drawings
as he depicts the action of Roger's novel are hilarious and more detailed
than you expect in the strip. Amend's simple rendering style has acquired,
over the years, considerable polish with gray tones and solid blacks,
and herein it is showcased to advantage. The collection also features
genius son Jason's video playmate, sister Paige's personal secretary,
brother Peter's return to the theater, Isles of Fun resorting, basement
cleaning, and adventures in spaghetti. FoxTrot, in case you weren't
paying attention, is one of a handful of comic strips to appear in over
1,000 newspapers. It is, in other words, a huge success, and you can
see why in this volume. Stay 'tooned. To find out about Harv's books, click here. |
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