Wizard: still shit, still in denial

Tom Spurgeon is dissappointed in an interview with Wizard head honcho Gareb Shamus and takes issue with Shamus’ view of why people hated it:

I don’t remember anyone criticizing Wizard during its initial years of publication because they preferred backwards-looking magazines. They were suspicious of the price guide and generally critical of the relentless hype and limited view of comics involved. Some were further disappointed by the general lack of an animating principle beyond celebrating the most popular superhero comic books of the day, feeding and feeding from that passionate fan base.

Also, it was kinda shit.

When Wizard came out I wasn’t really a sophisticated buyer of comics — I actually bought Youngblood #1 and #2 and #3 fresh from the stands — and the main magazine I used to buy was Comics Scene. Remember that? Glossy magazine done by the same people as who did Fangoria, half of each issue being about comics, half about animation and Hollywood movies based on comics or cartoons, somewhat shallow, with interviews in that weird format where the questions have all been left out and the answers edited to form one coherent story, actually available on newsstands as well as in comics shops. Forget The Comics Journal, that was my main fix for comics news and what I compared Wizard to when it first appeared. It looked interesting and kewl that first issue, but there was no “there” there. What I got instead was a whole generation of artists and writers learned to speak P.R., answer dumb questions and plug whatever shit they were selling that month. Alongside that you got various filler features: casting calls for movies that would never be made, hot or not lists and such, offering a few seconds of amusement better suited to bullshit sessions at yer local comics shop.

But if Wizard had only wanted to be the Entertainment Weekly for comics geeks, that would’ve been harmless. Pointless, but harmless. The real evil it did was with its bloody price guide, which kept the punters coming back each month by promising them that their month-old copies of Darkhawk were now worth serious money. The comics industry didn’t need any help setting up a destructive boom and bust cycle, but Wizard was still there to push it off the cliffs. A lot of players helped to almost destroy the American comics industry in the early to mid nineties, from the Big Two and Image and all the smaller publishers inspired to do gimmick covers, to the distributors attempting to gain a monopoly (and do not think Capital would’ve been better), to the shitheap comics shop ripping their customers off by selling new comics at inflated prices, the artists and writers willing to suck to be cool, to the suckers buying comics themselves, seriously thinking a comic with a print run in the millions will ever be worth more than its value in paper when there were perhaps a 100,000, maybe 200,000 proper comics readers in the US in the first place. But Wizard turned that self destructive tendency up to eleven, by basically lying to its readers about the money their comics were worth. It led people to believe their Valiant comics would fund their retirement and when inevitably, even the slower readers knew otherwise, bang went the comics market. It still hasn’t recovered.

So it’s not that “we like the comic creators from the past, how could you be writing about these new comic creators like Jim Lee, and Todd McFarlane, and Rob Liefeld”, but that a) everything in the magazine was shit, purile enhtertainment that actively kills brain cells while playing on people’s greed by telling them the worst comics ever written would be worth big big money in just a few months.

Friday Funnies: Little Lulu

sample page from The Burglar-Proof Clubhouse

One of the things that has changed the most on the American comics scene between the time I was a hardcore collector in the eighties and nineties and now is the ready availability of reprinted material. It’s not just that you can count on most new series being released as a hardcover or trade paperback collection not too long after they first appeared in pamphlet form, it’s that increasingly, everything good that has ever been released in the past seventy years is available as well, as is much that isn’t (the world really need doesn’t the Magicman Archives). This is a huge difference, to be able to buy a series like Little Lulu, which I could only read about in nostalgic pieces in the fan press, as easily as you can buy the latest issue of Amazing Spider-Man.

This easy availability has deglamourised Little Lulu and other comics like it. Because these had been unavailable for so long, out of reach of average fans without access to well stocked back issue bins and the ready money to buy them, there was a certain mystique and glamour to them, and you poured over the small snippets you got of them in fan articles about them. And since these articles usually were written in the warm glow of nostalgia, Little Lulu got overpraised.

All of which is a roundabout way to say I was a bit disappointed with the random volume of Dark Horse’s Little Lulu series I bought cheap at the local bookstore. From everything I’d heard and read about it over the years I expected one of the great humour comics, but instead it was good, even excellent, but no more than that. The stories in The Burglar-Proof Clubhouse and Other Stories are funny and smart, but they are all variations on a theme and reading this in one go, it all got a bit repetitive. The art is okay, the best bits being the characters’ expressions; it’s all done as simplified as possible, which works well in a humour comic. The driving force behind Little Lulu was John Stanley, by all accounts a genius cartoonist, but at this point in the series he was working with assistants, in this case Irving Tripp.

The plots are pure formula. The first and most frequent sees Lulu outwitting the boys, especially Tubby, as he tries to swindle her into some scheme or other usually involving food, only to have it backfire on him. The other formula repeated throughout the volume is that of Lulu telling fantastical stories to Alvin, the little neighbour boy. The stories on their own are funny and witty, but you don’t need to read five of them in a row. But that’s the problem with reprinting comics that were always meant as disposable entertainment, where it doesn’t matter if next month’s stories are largely the same as last month’s, because nobody would’ve kept the previous issue anyway. And unlike e.g. Carl Barks’ Donald Duck and Uncle Scrooge, the suburban adventures of Little Lulu never quite lent themselves to such memorable stories as Barks could get away with.

All of which should not take away from the fact that Little Lulu was still one of the best American children’s humour comics ever written; it can’t be blamed for not living up to expectations created by nostalgia.

A Heck of an artist

Diversions of the Groovy Kind has a series of splashpages from Marvel titles published in February 1971, exactly forty years ago. Some great art there, but the one that really grabbed my attention is the one above, by Don Heck (and Sal Buscema) for the Black Widow feature in Amazing Adventures. Heck is never really been one of my favourite artists, but having seen his work on early Avengers and Iron Man in the various Marvel Essential collections I read last year I gained a new respect for him.

1971 Black Widow splashpage by Don Heck

The page above is a good reason why. Most of the other splashpages featured just consist of one single, dramatic image, but Heck[1] has chosen not to do this. Instead, he puts a sequence of five, narrow, vertical panels above the title, building up to the payoff below the title, as the Widow judochops her stalker with such force his feet break through the panel border. Not a single panel is wasted here, each adding a new element, contributing to the tension. The first panel shows the widow in medium focus walking past a building, then we see a close up of shoes, clearly not the Widow’s, followed by an overhead shot showing the Widow walking as well as the lower legs of her stalker, in shadow. Next a reaction shot, as it’s clear the Widow has noticed him, then the menace as the guy sticks out his hand with a sneer on his face, followed by the payoff, as she quickly overpowers him, which is also the first time we get both dialogue and sound effects. Elegant, simple, done with the least amount of effort, seemingly nothing special happens on this page, it’s a sequence we’ll have seen dozens of times before, but it’s drawn with such craft by an artist who clearly thinks in page layout as well as images.

[1] Of course, both Roy Thomas, who has written the script Heck will have had to follow to draw this page and Sal Buscema, who inked Heck’s layouts have something to do with the choices made here as well, but I assume it was Heck who translated Thomas’ script, who made these layout choices.

Friday Funnies: Zenith

Just a link today,as I’m glued to Al-Jazeerawatching the Egyptian revolution. He’s Not A Super-Hero, He’s Not Even A Very Naughty Boy: The Case Against Grant Morrison & Steve Yeowell’s “Zenith” is an oldish but excellent analysis of one of Grant Morrison’s first big projects, 2000AD‘s Zenith, the superhero-popstar:

IV. There’s a terrible puritanism that lurks at the heart of the popular concept of the super-hero, and at times it seems almost indivisible from any understanding of the Protestant Work Ethic. Sacrifice is good, fun is bad. Obedience is the mark of the worthy, indulgence is the devil’s stain. The mask, the cape, the platitude and the sacrificing heart is less admirable than mandatory, while private life and private happiness are despicable anti-social cancers threatening us all.

And yet underneath all that alienating refusal by Zenith to become a super-hero, and all his embracing of the shallow and disgusting business of wealth and fun, is a single truth that so many folks seem to miss. (I certainly did.) Zenith is an extremely young man, in a culture and a business effectively hell-bent on offering him every substantial psychological reinforcer to stay so. Which means that he’s often effectively just a boy, for heaven’s sake, while even his creators seem to be judging him as we would ordinarily judge a fully mature and adult man.

Zenith is an uneven but important work, the first time that Grant Morrison showed he was going to be an important writer, one of a wave of revisionist superhero projects done in the wake of Alan Moore’s pioneering work on Marvelman and Swamp Thing. Some of the issues and themes Morrison explored here would return in his later work in e.g. The Invisibles. As far as I know it’s still uncollected, so the only way to read it is to hunt down the old Titan Books collections of the first three series and the 200AD back issues in which Phase IV appeared.

Young “cons” indeed

SEK points at and mocks a couple of young tools doing “conservative rapping” and includes their video, which is as excruciating as you imagined when you read “conservative rapping”. But that’s not important right now, what I found interesting was the shirts these two douches were wearing, as seen in the screenshot above. Because I’m sure they think they’re wearing the symbols of two iconic conservative superheroes, when in fact both Superman and Captain America can best be described as FDR Democrats. Superman spent his first appearances fighting wifebeaters (Action Comics #1), crooked businessmen and war profiteers (#1 and #2), not to mention mine owners who put profit before safety (#3). Not to mention that he’s either an illegal immigrant or America’s most famous anchor baby, depending on whether he was born on Krypton or only when his little rocket hit Kansas and spent most of the sixties, seventies and eighties as duly deputised police officers of the United Nations, together with his cousin Supergirl!

Captain America on the other hand is the textbook example of the premature anti-fascist, knocking out Hitler on his first appearance, in March 1941, has been consistently portrayed as a proper liberal, other than in Mark Millar’s revisionist imaginations, in the seventies saw that the head of the fascist Secret Empire was none other than Nixon a high public official, got desillusioned with America and went all Easy Rider, while in the eighties had to deal with a Reagan inspired challenger to his role who ultimately couldn’t cope with it.

All in all, two quite odd choices to wear for two such conservative stalwards.