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CBG SATELLITES
The ADD Blog by Alan David Doane
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…and I said, “Darling, I’d call that putting the Cartier before the horse!” Oh, sorry, I seem to have been Hedda Hopper there for a moment. I must not be well. Maybe I should just get on with the reviews and get some rest.
Conan: The Jewels of Gwahlur
The problem is, this is kind of a dud. It’s not that I think Russell isn’t into it—the art is often beautiful and the pages thoughtfully designed—but there is something missing. The story is serviceable, featuring Conan scheming to outwit some priests and another competing con man to get some jewels from a temple, wherein he enlists the aid of a local girl to pose as the Oracle. The story is notable for portraying Conan as more of a planner than a reckless adventurer and warrior, but that’s not necessarily what I wanted. Russell is adapting the story, of course, so he can’t be blamed for the fact there aren’t hordes of Picts to lay low or anything, but still, he does very little to add any kind of movement or physicality to the work. Conan generally stands around, talking, listening, observing. Sometimes he crouches or climbs. He shows his better nature at the end, saving the girl from falling rather than the jewels, but I could have used some fun before then. Conan, and this book, come off as good-natured bores.
Eduardo Risso: Black. White It’s a rare and admirable as it is these days for an artist to stick to one ongoing series, as Risso had done with 100 Bullets. And unfortunately, while he has lost not a step of his ability, he has fallen out of the “hot” status afforded other artists—often of lesser skill—every time they take on a new project. Black. White appears to be meant as a reminder of what Risso can do with a brush, or maybe a testing of the waters as far as the reception a lengthier art book might have. At any rate, it’s short—about as long as a monthly comic, though at magazine dimensions and on glossy stock—so one would hope every piece selected would represent Risso’s best, his highest-impact, high-contrast work. But while all of it is fine and often very good, it’s a real hodgepodge, with few standouts. There are some pencil sketches or commission pieces of sexy women, a Risso staple, and those are good, and show that his work is dramatic even without ink. But proposal pieces with Spider-Man, The Punisher, and Wolverine are just novelties, even a bit awkward, with only a page of Hulk sequential pencils and an Eisneresque image of Nick Fury on a bed with an evil-looking woman being impressive. Admirers of his lone Spider-Man: Tangled Web story will enjoy a page of original pencils. Bullets co-creator Brian Azzarello contributes an Introduction, written almost two years ago, that rightfully extols the virtues of Risso’s storytelling, yet there is only one story here, a short Conquistador tale, and it’s almost incomprehensible, though Risso’s work is strong. There are a couple strips under the heading “Eroticon” that nonetheless feature no sex or nudity. It’s not a bad little collection, don’t get me wrong, but knowing how good Risso has been for so long, and having seen a fair amount of his pre-Bullets work, I know that a more impressive collection could have been created, even at this short page count. However, those balking at the price should realize this is an edition limited to 2000, and Risso does include a signed postcard with an image not seen in the book itself.
Alan Moore Spells It Out
This is right in line with the unfortunate tone of the book, which places more importance on Baker than Moore. There’s a two page Intro by Baker about his credentials and advance degrees and that this is the first in a proposed series of “Bill Baker Presents…” books. And at the end of the book, Baker has the longer bio and larger photo. It’s really, really hamfisted and annoying. Not that I think Baker is doing this with anything but the best intentions and real appreciation of Moore’s talent. I’m not questioning that, but Meadows or someone should have set him straight prior to publication, because if not for the power of Moore’s words blowing all the other bullshit away, as they tend to do most times, this book would be a farce. As it is, while it is not “one of the most comprehensive” of Moore interviews, it’s still a good conversation with the most literate writers of comics of all time. As other interviewers will attest, Moore usually needs just the gentlest of proddings to produce verbal gold on any number of subjects, but while Baker doesn’t ask anything new, at least he sets Moore up nicely and never breaks the mood with a stupid or offensive question. I do think the last question about if there were any questions Moore had always wanted to be asked but hadn’t, is weak for a closer, especially as Moore’s answer is basically “no.” It could have been cut or just moved up in the text. Poor editing and design aside, Baker would have had a stronger book had he chosen to add some kind of overview or thumbnail reviews of Moore’s body of work. This would have made for a better package. And though I sympathize with the struggles of small publishing, some questions could have used follow-ups or revisions, such as discussing Moore’s plans to end his work for the America’s Best Comics line when his work in fact was completed some time ago. What’s here can’t rightly be called “bad,” as it’s still Moore holding forth at some length on his work, his methods and his interests, but it is really more for completists, as it’s all ground covered in other books and in other interviews readily available.
Invincible: Ultimate Collection Vol. 1
Invincible tries to have it both ways, showing how fun it can be to be a teenager with superpowers, but also that there is an horrific story behind these powers, that there is a price for everything. In this respect, the book is probably closest to the Brian Michael Bendis-scripted Ultimate Spider-Man, and certainly the format of this book, Kirkman’s career choices in doing Marvel work-for-hire while continuing with comics he owns like this and The Walking Dead, and the Bendis Introduction to this volume suggest Kirkman has watched Bendis’ career closely and is following in his footsteps. Interestingly, though, Kirkman largely avoids most of the typical teen romantic angst that was the stock-in-trade of Stan Lee’s Spider-Man and which has been updated successfully by Bendis. Invincible’s Mark Grayson doesn’t really have girl problems to speak of, and he gets along great with his folks. No teachers are coming down on him, nor are there any bullies aside from a brief scene in the first issue. What’s exhilarating about the beginnings of the series are how light and fun it all is, without the expected handwringing and struggling to learn powers and hide an identity from one’s parents and come up against the villain who will be your nemesis for the duration of the series and all that malarkey. We’ve all been there. It’s also a genuine pleasure to experience Walker’s artwork for the first time. He has a very fine but fluid line, and he uses it everywhere, even using geometrical shapes or unexpected squiggles in place of traditional feathering or. Colorist Bill Crabtree in underrated in adding just the right tones to give dimension to what otherwise could be pretty flat work on its own. Walker does the art on the first seven issues, and while his compositions are very standard, his style is fresh enough to give readers a feeling that something new is going on here. Of course, Kirkman’s writing is a large part of that feeling as well. His scenes are the definition of breezy, but that’s not meant as a criticism. The preponderance of superhero books in which every scene is grim and earth-shattering helps this book succeed partially due to its novelty, though Kirkman also can be relied upon for at least a couple good comedic scenes each issue. One example is Mark reading his favorite superhero comic, Science Dog, in the bathroom for so long his mom thinks he’s doing something else teen boys often do in the bathroom. The randyness of Mark’s mom and his dad, Omni-Man, is presented as comedy but without sniggering. Unfortunately, as with the universe, so go comics, so things do tend to fall apart. Spoiler warning and all that for those who don’t know. It’s gradual at first and hardly noticeable: a lame attempt to flesh out Mark’s buddy William: he doesn’t like to be called Bill or Billy; or cutesy in-jokes involving the use of repeated panels at the beginning of the seventh issue that say “filler” more than anything. The seventh issue, notably, features some other artists filling in for some parts of the issue, each getting to draw a different Guardian of the Globe, this universe’s equivalent of the Justice League, right down to unimaginative knockoffs of Batman, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern, though I liked the underwater hero. To me, it crosses the line into self-indulgence, and while the reason for the scenes is understandable—to establish who these heroes are before they’re wiped out—the scenes themselves aren’t very good. Walker gives up the monthly grind to do covers and work on other projects, so Ryan Ottley takes over with the eighth issue, a little past the halfway point of this collection. And while he comes very close to Walker’s style and is by no means a bad artist, his style just isn’t as interesting. Where Walker could get away with minimalism with his idiosyncratic line and sheer verve, Ottley’s panels are often just underfed, and his facial expressions too exaggerated, jaws and lips flaring and twisting to the side as if many of the characters are experiencing seizures, or imitating Edward G. Robinson. Also, and this is Kirkman’s design, not any fault of Ottley, the book stops being breezy and The Real Story Begins. Omni-Man isn’t Earth’s champion—he’s just keeping humanity from destroying themselves before his people can invade, so Mark’s life is a lie, Dad gives him the Darth Vader speech about joining him, blah blah blah. It’s not that it’s entirely unexpected—it’s a credit to Kirkman and Walker that they kept the book as entertaining as it was for six issues with little plot to speak of—but to make this 180 degree change in direction work, the book has to be just as good as it was at the beginning, and that isn’t the case here. It’s almost as if Kirkman was so excited by the twist in #7 that he didn’t think the ramifications through, so lighthearted scenes like Mark and his dad watching a zombie movie marathon on Mark’s birthday fall flat now that we know what Mark’s dad is really about. And wouldn’t you know it, he romantic complications happen, with Mark’s superheroing gal pal Eve taking a liking to him even as he starts to date another girl, but neither female character is developed. Instead, Kirkman starts to ratchet up the A-plot even while wasting time on lots of punchouts. Omni-Man’s big revelation in #11 is done pretty well except that asks us to believe that every single word and action we’ve seen from him previously has been a lie. Why even raise your son as a normal human teen if you feel humanity is insignificant? Why would he even think Mark would join him? Things get somewhat back on course with some new developments in Mark’s life and the lives of his supporting cast at the end of #13, and I won’t say it’s too little, too late, but I honestly wasn’t expecting my interest to have diminished this much by the end of the first year of the series. With Ottley’s art, and the change in direction, this is now a good superhero comic book, not a great one, and it remains to be seen if it will recover. I was also a bit dismayed that only 13 issues were collected here, as I believe the solicitation had originally been for 18, and it’s a bit pricey for 13. To make this a book that can go on for years, which seems to be Kirkman’s aim, he needs to work much harder on characterization. Mark has only one problem in his life, and it’s one that isn’t his fault. He needs to make some mistakes, develop some flaws and quirks, and the same goes for everyone else in the book. Everything and everyone revolves around Mark, not because he’s interesting, but because he’s the star of the book, and he needs to earn that billing. Also, while the superhero exploits may be tagged by some as reminiscent of the Silver Age in some ways, it should be noted that the good Silver Age superhero stories, while sunny and often silly, were usually pretty tightly plotted, with interesting ideas and a solid moral foundation, and here the various heists and invasions are an afterthought. Kirkman is a talented writer with a lot of potential, but here I’m seeing comfort and rot set in far too early, when he should really be pushing himself for depth. Special Thanks to ADD regarding the Alan Moore book—I’m sure he suggested that an overview would have helped the book when we discussed it on the phone this week
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Dark Horse has found success with the Kurt Busiek/Cary Nord/Greg Ruth run of Conan, and the spin-off one-shots and miniseries have been fine, too. And it seemed like a no-brainer to tap P. Craig Russell to do something as well. After all, he works mainly in fantasy adventure, and even inked some of Marvel Comics’ Conan many years ago. He also does most of his best work in adaptation, and there is a wealth of Robert E. Howard material to choose from. Fittingly, he chose this story, which takes place right after “Red Nails,” the tale that became a classic adaptation by Roy Thomas and Russell’s peer, Barry Windsor-Smith. 
This slim volume—a little bigger than most manga but only 80 pages—features an interview Baker conducted with Moore over a year ago, which he excerpted for his online column 
Sixty-some years on from the first comics to feature heroes in brightly colored costumes with abilities beyond those of mortal man, it’s gotten really, really hard to find a fresh approach. For the last couple decades, flawed, dark heroes or antiheroes who take perverse pleasure in their vigilantism—or experience untold agony because of it—have ruled the storytelling roost, with diminishing dramatic returns. Alternately, some creators, many of whom grew up on the simpler, sunnier comics of the ‘50s and ‘60s, have attempted to recapture that Silver Age feeling, albeit with acknowledgment of the world of today, and these have met with varying degrees of success.