On Comics, part 2

“Lois Lane please put me in your plan

Yeah, Lois Lane you don't need no Superman

Come on downtown and stay with me tonight

I got a pocket full of kryptonite”

~ ‘Jimmy Olsen’s Blues’, by Barron/Comess/Schenkman/White

from the Spin Doctors album “Pocket Full Of Kryptonite”, 1991

If you tuned in last week, you’ll have read about some of my predilection for the storytelling medium of comic books.  My love for the medium goes back to when I was a mere slip of a lad.

Of the ‘Big 2’, Marvel Comics and DC comics, I tended more towards Marvel (featuring characters such as Spiderman, The Hulk, The Fantastic Four, Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, and The Avengers) than DC (home of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, and Aquaman).  To me, a notable difference between the Marvel and DC stables of characters seem to be how much more ‘human’ the Marvel characters seemed to be; Superman was an alien, Batman a billionaire, Wonder Woman a warrior princess, whereas Spiderman was an orphaned, down-on-his-luck high-school student, The Hulk a victim of an accident, and the Fantastic Four a family.   The X-Men serve as both a reflection of human bigotry and racism, and analogous of puberty.

Also, the nature of their alter-egos was often fundamentally different; Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman disguised themselves as Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne and Diana Prince.  Their human faces are the characters disguising their true state. Peter Parker, on the other hand, disguises himself as the hero Spider-Man.

Comic books are not the exclusive purview of superheroes, of course.  Comics have, and still do, portray stories in every conceivable genre, from science fiction, to romance, to westerns, to thrillers, to adventure stories, to drama, to fantasy, to war stories, and so on.  It is perhaps strange that tales featuring super-heroes are the most common genre in modern comics in the western world.  I cannot say with any kind of certainty why this is, although I do believe the super-hero genre (if, in fact, it is a genre) has the ability to cover a multitude of other genres simultaneously.

I have noticed increasingly in recent years that there is definitely an apparently obsessive maintenance of the status quo in especially the Big 2’s respective ‘universes’ of characters, and a reluctance to explore new paradigms.  It is not new 

Back in the golden years of comics, around the beginning of the 1960’s, Marvel in particular were creating and developing their characters from scratch.  It was really a time of cutting edge creativity in the medium.  The universe the comic pioneers of yesteryear created then became popular and, over time, the essential attributes of their stories and casts of characters in their various titles solidified to become what we know and love today.  After that initial flurry of creation, it became the norm to revisit elements that were popular before, rather than creating new scenarios to be played out.  Spiderman fought the Green Goblin and the comic sold well - so new comics where he fights the Green Goblin all over again came around frequently, maybe every few months. Fairly soon, Spiderman fighting one of maybe a dozen or so villains month in, month out, over endless years, was de rigeur.  Nowadays, the Big 2 rarely introduce new characters, and even when they do, their readership seems to lament that the new villain is not as ‘good’ as the Green Goblin.  New characters are rarely embraced and tend in most cases to fade into obscurity.  Plots get rehashed, and the stories seem to rely on the illusion of change, rather than actual genuine character development.

Clearly the readership is as complicit in the recycling of this status quo due to their bitter and sometimes vitriolic (especially on the internet) attacks on any comic creator or company who dare to mess with characters they know and love and view with a sense of ownership.  It’s been noted that some of the classic pioneering comic book stories of the first decades of modern comic books would never have been allowed to be written if the internet had existed in the time of their creation.  Marvel Entertainment’s Chief Creative Officer and former Editor-In-Chief Joe Quesada sometimes refers to the bluster that is rampant on various comic book related forums on the world wide web as the ‘interfret’.

Another element that has no doubt affected the unchanging nature of modern comics is that the initial creators had no template upon which to base their creations.  They were inspired by classical literature, movies, and the world around them*.  On the other hand, modern comic book writers often grew up reading comics, sometimes even belonging to the very rabid, continuity-obsessed readership that will in turn read their work.  When they have the opportunity and become popular enough to have a platform of their own from which to create comic books, it seems that often their default position is to write their own version of the Spiderman/Green Goblin fight that has been done to death by dozens of writers before them. Comics, in many instances, have become a literary Ouroboros. 

The alternate view is that perhaps superheroes have become a new form of mythology to the modern world, in a similar fashion as the various pantheons arose from ancient times, such as the Norse gods from the Vikings or the Olympians from the Ancient Greeks.  Perhaps superheroes and their stories in the Big 2 universes are unchanging because of a resonance with mankind that requires them to remain relatively static in order to become a myth-defining phenomenon.  Furthermore, perhaps the ‘interfret’ is a reflection of a type of worship.

Modern myths notwithstanding, I’ve drifted away from comics for the most part in recent years.  I’ve found I can only read the same characters doing the same things and fighting the same villains in ever increasingly adolescent male fantasies so many times before it becomes clear that my ongoing support is merely encouraging the increasingly self-indulgent creators to re-tread old ground.  I can’t muster the kind of manic passion that comic fandom often seems to demand.  I’ve decided to be very selective in what I purchase and keep, and occasionally I go through my dozen-odd long-boxes of comics to see if there’s anything in there that may not be worth keeping long term.  I’ve promised myself to be sure to keep only the very, very best of the many Spiderman/Green Goblin battles in my possession.

*The many superheroes that received their ‘powers’ due to various kinds of ‘radiation’ may very well have emerged from a fascination with, and fear of, the perceived nuclear threat observed during the Cold War.

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On Comics, part 1

“Is he strong? 

Listen bud, 

He's got radioactive blood. 

Can he swing from a thread? 

Take a look overhead 

Hey, there 

There goes the Spider-Man”

~ ‘Spider-Man Theme Song’, by Paul Francis Webster and Robert Harris

from the cartoon “Spider-Man”, 1967

During my formative years in the eighties, my older brother used to read comic books.  When the opportunities presented themselves, I would often have a read myself, and allow myself to be caught up in the magical fantasy worlds they portrayed, of square jawed heroes with abs chiseled from rock, ludicrously proportioned women, and twisted, evil villains bent on world conquest.  My brother’s predilections were the super-heroes of both major rival American comic book companies, Marvel Comics and DC Comics, often referred to in industry circles as the ‘Big 2’.  I remember tentatively starting my own collection after Big Bro moved out of home, reading and buying comics in the early mornings spent frequenting the local newsagent before I attended my daily paper round.

I believe very firmly in comic books as a storytelling medium.  Each different way of telling a story has implicit weaknesses.  Oral story telling lacks a visualisation other than that which is conjured by the listener.  Similarly, prose allows no visuals other than what the author describes, and fast paced action is difficult to write as it often reads more slowly than the action unfolds.  Film obviously allows for visuals and  action can be seen to unfold in real time, but backstory is difficult without often clunky expository dialogue or voice-overs.  Emotion and thought can usually only be shown through word and action.  In addition, while the advent of CGI means filmmakers are limited only by their imaginations, it can get very expensive to bring those imaginings to life.  

Comic-style stories can show anything that can be imagined without budgetary considerations.  In addition, displaying a character’s thoughts is just as easy as dialogue, even though ‘thought balloons’ have not been fashionable in comics in recent years.  Where comics can sometimes struggle (especially if the artist is a weak storyteller) is in its choosing of which static pictures it uses to adequately show what may be a complex sequence of actions.  

Stan Lee, arguably the father (or perhaps the demented uncle) of modern American comics and creator of Spider-Man, Captain America, Thor, Ironman, The Hulk, The Avengers, Fantastic Four, and the X-Men, once told a story of meeting a supposed patron of the arts at a painting exhibition in gallery for fine art.*  When the gentleman Stan was talking to suggested comic book artists were not in the same class as fine artists whose work hangs in galleries, Stan retorted “You’re blinkin’ right they’re not in the same class.  Your so-called ‘fine artists’ do what they please, when they please, answering to no-one and with no deadline hanging over their heads.  Their work, if and when it’s finally seen by anyone, might bring pleasure to a select few.  The comicbook artist, on the other hand, must work under pressure, must meet the approval of his editor, publisher and countless readers...”  

He goes further to add “The comicbook artist must compose scene after scene, depict a story clearly and dramatically, create a never-ending series of characters, poses, locales, and perspectives, and do all that and more in the length of time it usually takes a ‘fine’ artist to set up an easel and mix some paints!”

Of course, Stan is very much the comic book apologist, but he makes some sound arguments.  Many comic artists also have their work hung in galleries, because it is often that good.  Most comic artists are serious about their craft, and are capable of creating some stunning visuals.  Obviously, the visual storytelling of comic books is reminiscent of the storyboards used in the creation of movies, so it’s no surprise that there has been a glut of movies starring many of the heroes of Marvel and DC.  This is especially so since the exponential growth in the use of CGI special effects in movies.  Film technology has finally caught up with the imaginations that comic book writers and artists have been exercising for decades.  

Movies have been using special effects for as long as there has been movies, but CGI has provided a level of realism seldom before seen.  These improvements have not necessarily lead to better quality movies of course; stunning CGI effects are incapable of lifting a movie out of the mire of mediocrity without a decent plot, engaging stories and interesting, fully realised characters.  It is truly astonishing that movie producers and creative folk don’t seem to always get that, and continue to churn out bombastic bits of nonsense.  Perhaps this is because film goers are often sucked in by the hype and marketing that often surrounds such films, lending them undeserved success.

I’m glad that for every dog’s breakfast like Batman and Robin (1997), Daredevil (2003) and Ghost Rider (2007)**, there is an Iron Man (2008), The Dark Knight (2008) and X-Men: First Class (2011) to balance the quality ledger.  The fact that those ledger-balancing films are brilliantly conceived and masterfully created movies first and super-hero movies second means more movies of similar quality have a good chance of being made in the future.

What many may find surprising is the number of mainstream movies based on comic books that don’t feature superheroes.  Movies such as The Crow (1995), Men In Black (1997), Ghost World (2001), Road To Perdition (2002), American Splendor (2003), A History Of Violence (2005) Sin City (2005), Constantine (2005), 30 Days Of Night (2007), 300 (2007), Surrogates (2009), The Losers (2010), and Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (2010), to name just a few from recent years.  It seems to me that comic books have much more to offer than just superheroics.  The reasons why they seldom do are interesting... and a discussion for next week.

*This tale was recounted in a ‘Stan’s Soapbox’, a semi-regular editorial found in many Marvel comics of yesteryear.  This particular ‘Stan’s Soapbox’ was found in all the Marvel Comics released in December 1993.

**Incidentally, the Daredevil and Ghost Rider were both written and directed by Mark Steven Johnson - any chance Hollywood will stop allowing him to make super-hero films?  Please?

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On Football

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“Sons of the 'scray, red, white and blue,

We'll come out snarling, we're bulldogs through and through,

Bulldogs bite and Bulldogs roar, remember '54,

'Cos you can't beat the boys of the Bulldog breed, that make ol' Footscray's name!”

~ ‘The Footscray Bulldogs Football Club Theme Song’, to the tune of ‘Sons of the Sea’

lyrics by Mike Brady, circa 1982

There’s a radio program on the ABC in Melbourne on Saturdays between 11am and 1pm called the Coodabeen Champions.  It’s a lighthearted look at all things AFL football in the hours prior to the live telecast, and it is at once nostalgic, amusingly cynical, and witty.  Some may suggest the program is a little old-hat, considering the relative age of the broadcasters and the fact that the show has been around in various forms since the early 1980’s.  One of the more amusing segments features talkback with a number of colourful identities, each actually voiced by members of the Coodabeens and satirically lampooning various football clubs and their supporters.  One such recurring “caller” is ‘Danny from Droop Street’.  Droop Street is a main thoroughfare in the western Melbourne suburb of Footscray.

Danny is perpetually hangdog.  He’s a stereotypical pessimist, never believing his club will ever achieve anything of note.  When his team is doing well, Danny is concerned, as this is merely the precursor to an inevitable fall from grace.  When the team loses, Danny is relieved, because at least he doesn’t have to wait any longer for the fait de compli.  When the captain of his beloved club was reported to being “quietly confident” about an upcoming match, Danny was quick to chastise him, saying “We can’t have that kind of talk around the club.”

Danny and I share an important characteristic.  We both support the Western Bulldogs Football Club.

The Western Bulldogs Football Club formed in the latter stages of the 19th century and was a force in the VFA, winning numerous premierships including a run from 1919 to 1924.  At the end of that season, the Bulldogs (then called the Tricolours due to their red, white and blue playing strip) played a game against the Essendon Football Club (the 1924 premiers from the more fancied and powerful VFL).  The Bulldogs won, hence being proclaimed the “Champion of Victoria”.  The Footscray Bulldogs joined the VFL the very next year.  That was pretty much where Danny’s and my misery began.

The Bulldogs have sadly only won a single, solitary premiership in their VFL/AFL history, that occurring in 1954, when my dear father was only 9 years old.  Since he was growing up in South Africa, he hadn’t likely even heard of Australian football.  I’m told that when we immigrated to Australia, we were reliably advised that one must support a football team if wanting to continue to live unhindered in the fine city of Melbourne.  My mother and father picked teams that opposed each other in the famous drawn Grand Final of 1977 (the year we arrived), Collingwood and North Melbourne respectively.  Older brother #1 picked Geelong, and older brother #2 picked Fitzroy.  Being an infant, deciding on a team for myself came down to colours and so my fate was sealed with the traditionally working-class team of Melbourne’s inner western suburb of Footscray, latterly the Western Bulldogs.

The Bulldogs have historically been a team of battlers and underdogs, often finding themselves the object of pity due to what former Carlton Football Club president John Elliott once controversially called the club’s “tragic history”.  Despite few actual Grand Final appearances, not many clubs have had as many seasons that have come close to winning that elusive premiership than the Doggies without actually achieving the ultimate reward.  Even very recently their so-called ‘premiership window’ has been at the very least ajar, with the Bulldogs contesting the last three preliminary finals without making it all the way to the big stage.  It’s a painful thing for a supporter, as Danny from Droop Street would certainly attest.

It must be said that winning an AFL premiership is very much like capturing lightning in a bottle.  A club needs to have a near perfect balance of players, coaches, intricate and timely strategies, a good run with injuries, generous portions of luck, and an often intangible X-Factor.  Sometimes, even if all these things are running your way, you can face a club that has all that and something infinitesimally extra, and you’re on the losing side anyway.

Think about it this way:  each and every week, half of the teams that play, play to win and abjectly fail.  Even if the game is a draw it could be argued that both teams have failed.  At least half the league’s teams are failures each week and around half the supporters across the country are at least marginally disappointed, week in, week out.  At the end of the year, 16 out of 17 teams currently in the competition (that’s 94.12%) have been entirely unsuccessful in the goal they all had at least tentatively set themselves at the start of the season, that is, winning the Grand Final.  How on earth do clubs and supporters keep going at it every year, considering the enormous and overwhelming failure rates?  

I believe it is because each new year, even each week, brings with it new promise, a new dawn and a new beginning.  Near infinite second chances.  That’s worth aspiring to.  Maybe this week will be the Bulldogs’ week!  If not, maybe the week after!  If this season is not our season, maybe it will be next year!  If not, then the team will rebuild, because after all, we’ve got a great crop of kids, all of them potential champions, coming through the ranks!  Then, maybe, just maybe, if the stars align, it will be our year!  I decided long ago to continue to ride the roller-coaster with my beloved Doggies.  Win, lose, or draw, they are my team, and I’ll support them, win with them and lose with them, until I draw my final breath.  If one day we capture that lightning in a bottle, I’ll be there, wearing a lunatic grin, wondering what on Earth Danny from Droop Street is making of it all.

On Movie Critiques

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“Well I hope you come and see me in the movies

Then I’ll know that you will plainly see

The biggest fool that ever hit the big time

And all I’ve got to do is act naturally”

~ ‘Act Naturally’ by Johnny Russell

from the Buck Owens and the Buckaroos album “The Best of Buck Owens”, 1963

A couple of weeks ago I discussed at some length my very favourite movie from the Pixar Movie Studios, that being 2004’s The Incredibles, and that got me thinking about storytelling.  While this movie is very definitely a particular favourite movie of mine, I also mentioned that I was rather enamoured with Pixar as a whole.  The reasons for that are legion; amazing production values, dedication to character and story, and absolute, unwavering commitment to quality.  That kind of steadfast pursuit of quality is rare in films these days, especially in the bombastic Hollywood tent-pole blockbusters we’ve all seen at some point.

There’s most definitely a place for these kinds of movies no doubt.  It’s a fine thing to suspend one’s disbelief and enter into a fantasy world and be taken on a fanciful ride.  I have a good friend who will accept anything in a movie, no matter how outlandish, as long as the film-makers make some attempt at explanation, even if it is far-fetched.  He will at once accept the movie on face value and has an enviable ability to just enjoy it for what it is.  I am a little jealous of him for that.

There’s a sometime contributor to Ain’tItCoolNews.com and professional astrophysicist who goes by the handle Copernicus, who writes up reviews for the site based not on the merits of story or character, but on the science.  He’s written at length about James Cameron’s Avatar (2009)* and even found an astonishing amount to comment on in the trailer (albeit an extended trailer) for New Zealand filmmaker Martin Campbell’s as-yet-unreleased Green Lantern movie.  You understand, Copernicus is arguing about the relative scientific merits of a comic book-based story about a man who joins an intergalactic police force and uses a lantern and a ring to create green things out of thin air in order to, you know, fight crime and save the universe.  Furthermore, Copernicus was arguing not about the contents of that film, only the contents of the trailer.

I possibly fit somewhere in the middle.  Where Copernicus and I find a common ground is where Copernicus says (in his discussion about Avatar): “Copernicus’ Law of Science Fiction: Bending the laws of physics out of service to the story is fine, doing it out of ignorance is unconscionable.”  I would have to agree with this ‘law’, that is to say that to bend the basic laws of physics because you don’t get them and couldn’t be bothered learning about them is just simply lazy.  Laziness is fairly prevalent in modern cinematic storytelling.  One of the more intriguing special features in the Pixar movie Up (2009) is one where the filmmakers actually travelled to South America in order to experience first-hand some of the environments in which the story takes place.  They did this not because they were making a factual documentary, but because they understood the value of a realistic canvas on which to portray their story.  I use that analogy purposefully: if one tries to create a masterpiece on a blemished canvas, it almost doesn’t matter how good the painting is, the flaws in the basis of the art can become glaring.

What I do insist on in my movies is internal logic.  Internal logic is best described as a consistency within a particular story, even when a suspension of disbelief is in operation.  In other words, if you’ve established in your movie that Superman is a really nice guy that can fly, I can accept it just fine. If two scenes later he doesn’t fly but only jumps really far and he was being mean to Lois Lane, and there’s not adequate explanation for why this is, then the filmmaker is not following the rules he himself has established.  Internal logic is vitally important to any storytelling, not just ones where the central characters can leap tall buildings in a single bound.  The Hollywood remake of Godzilla (1998) was roundly criticised for being inconsistent in its depiction of the eponymous beast’s abilities.  I find irregularities pull me out of the story, and my interest begins to wane.

I remember David Letterman once having a guest on his show who had starred in a rather good film. Letterman addressed filmmakers during the interview and essentially saying “If you can’t do something this good, please don’t bother”.  Life’s too short to spend your time experiencing poor quality in storytelling.  Which gets us back to what’s good and bad, which remains subjective.  Copernicus, my friend and I may all differ wildly in what we think is quality and what we do and don’t enjoy but for myself, I figure if I’m laying down ever-increasing piles of my hard-earned for the privilege of watching the story you’re telling, I’ll want you at least to be making a decent effort.

* It can be found HERE. Worth a read!