Graffic Traffic
“It’s Never Only Comics…”
by Ryk McIntyre
It’s always a joy to encounter another issue of the excellent Don’t Shoot! It’s Only Comics, the local anthology pulled together from it’s primary elements by Jef Taylor. From the Greg Moutafis front cover, with its helpful guide to rural/suburb/city differences, made clear by who is holding what gun at whom, as opposed to James Kachulka’s back cover that sort of does the same thing with cigarettes (terribly gross and funny), this anthology never fails to offer up the good stuff. And not a cape in sight. (140A Harvard Ave., #308, Allston, MA 02134).
I know I often “take it all out” on super-hero books, and while that might not be always fair or accurate, all it takes is a collection like Savage Dragon – A Talk With God, (Image/Erik Larsen – simple words and borrowed artwork) to let me know my cause is just. As one of the writer/artists who insists writers are extraneous, Erik Larsen surely shows the shortcomings of comics written by people who only source materials are other comics. At turns racist, pseudo-hip, sexist, soap-operatic in dialogue and subject and fixated on breasts that surely his analysts must’ve explained can’t be given the planet’s gravitational pull, this book even tries to reduce the ages-oldconflict between Good and Evil to a simple punch-out. Maybe, maybe , the only scene worth checking out is the fight between PowerHouse (the guy with the chicken-head and high-top fade hairdo) slapping around Brainiape (mostly gorilla with a clear-dome braincase). Funny for about the two pages it takes up, but not enough by itself to recommend this trade paperback.
A lot of the stuff this month bears recommendations of avoidance, sad to say. Paradox Press’s series of “Big Book Of…” seems to be scraping the bottom of the idea pile with Big Book of Martyrs (Paradox-DC/various artists), where any of the over 50 examples is pretty much the same as any other. I think I should be included for actually reading the thing all the way through. Maybe they’re saving me for “The Big Book of Little Idiots”…
I thought Cypher (Gibbs-Smith/ writer and artist – Brad Teare) was great with its 1/2 Peter Kuper/ 1/2 block print art and the surreal and Kafka-fed short stories, although the hardcover format and its $18.95 price might place it out of many a fan’s reach. Maybe they’ll consider paperback, write ’em and ask at PO Box 667, Layton, UT 84041.
Latest in the list of publishers to discover they can send us free stuff is that king of the minis, Starhead. Ranging from the OK-if-predictable Scary Stories From The Bible, or Hail, Hail, Schlock ‘n’ Roll to the dreadfully un-funny Hank, The Happy Handgun and Pete, The PitBull Puppy (both of which are about as appropriate as jokes about Rubbermaid containers), still, the package is saved by the addition of Jesus Delivers (by Jim Woodring and David Lasky) which uses a postal metaphor to debunk missionary fervor with a gentle touch clear wit. Additionally, the cover bears an illustration of Jesus that bears a remarkable resemblance to local poet/performer Richard Cambridge. (No charge for the plug, Richard…)
A great bet (as well as a charming gift idea come the holidays) is P. Craig Russell’s adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book Stories. (NBM/185 Madison Ave., Suite 1504, N.Y., N.Y., 10016 for a complete catalogue). Taken from the original, this adaptation celebrates Kipling’s wonderful writing without the DisneyCute treatment. As one of comics’ greatest and most elegant artists, P.Craig Russell can do anything. Once you get over the awe-inspiring first page, it gets even more magical thereafter.
If you haven’t heard me rave about Warren Ellis and his journalist-heroic Transmetropolitan (DC-Helix/ Warren-words, Robertson & DeMulder-art), well, just sit down and I’ll tell you again. Set in a future that we probably deserve, Warren’s Hunter-Thompson-with-tribal-tattoos lead character, Spider Jerusalem, gets an assistant, whom he threatens with a gun that shoots a bowel-loosening ray (set to “liquefy”). Luckily and more to the point, entertainingly, it gets used on President Arkadin Hall just before an important address. If that’s not worth $2.50, then you’re just too cheap with your disposable income.
I can’t leave this month’s column without admitting that there are hero comics worth your time and tolerance. Just because they seem to be the same comics every month… well, I told you it was barren out there. James (it always seems to be the same writers, too) Robinson’s Starman #37 (DC/ Harris & Grawbadger – art) takes our ’90s hero to the netherworld his dead brother inhabits (I guess they get together every so often…) where there is a dinner party full of the shades of many of the Original 1940’s Starman’s Justice Society of America compatriots. What follows is each of them examining their lives, career decisions, paths unchosen, regrets, and ultimately acceptance of their lot. All of this is to bolster Jack in his choice to uphold the Starman Legacy. From the grey-tones of the story (strangely enough, only Jack’s dead brother is in color) we are led to the final full-color last page toast and yes, I held up a glass too.
Last off, Resurrection Man (DC/ Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning – story, Butch Guice – art) a title that seemed to be treading over-familiar ground of the questing amnesiac, has, in issue #8, tried a Quantum Leap-esque story that shows that the more this title avoids the super-hero mainstream, the more potential it has to play with. I hope cross-overs and team-up ideas die the same repetitive deaths as the main character suffers once or several times per issue. Now that’d be a gift.
