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CBG SATELLITES
The ADD Blog by Alan David Doane
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Geronimo: Last Apache Warrior
"Call me Goyahkla," says an aging Geronimo, addressing the reader in the
narrative's opening line. The first segment of the book is framed as a
series of stories told to a member of Geronimo's last band of fighting
men, a meagre group of 16 warriors facing its final battle. In the
second chapter, the story is continued in the form of an epic-style
poem, and in the final pages, a series of full-page drawings accompanied
by "headlines" and narration paints the further history of Geronimo and
his people. It's an interesting concept, and given a stronger, more
focused plot and less self-indulgent writing (particularly in the poetic
sequence, which makes a grasp at profundity without capturing it), it's
a concept that could have worked. Unfortunately, in the final
analysis, it doesn't.
As a a series of comic books (which appears to have been the original
intent, given the book's format), I can't imagine how this work could
possibly have succeeded, since there is no tension, no buildup, nothing
to keep the reader coming back for more. As a single graphic novel,
The Last Apache Warrior fares somewhat better than it would have
in mini-series form, but it still lacks drama and flow. Certainly, there
are some affecting sequences, such as the way in which Geronimo's words
in the second segment of the story contrast with the pictures that
accompany them. Here the mythology surrounding Geronimo is contrasted
with the "warts and all" story of a youth who is defeated in a wrestling
match, who is embarrassed when the girl he loves sees him lying on the
ground after being beaten, who "was never bested," yet was turned back
and pushed aside by a group of young women with their arms locked.
As for the visual aspect of the book, Chaz Truog's inking and pencil
work is impressive, and his page design is also very strong,
particularly in the second section, where movement and action is
skillfully depicted in overlapping panels, inset drawings, and a variety
of framing techniques. Each "chapter" has its own distinct look - the
first is strictly black and white, with cross-hatched brushwork and
thick, heavy inking. The second part, which mainly deals with Geronimo's
relationship with Alope, the girl who would become his wife, is rendered
more softly, with Truog's pencilled shading adding depth to his inking.
The final part returns to the simpler style of the first, with added
detail and fine lines lending a documentary air to the chapter. Truog's
art works very well, and I look forward to seeing more of it, especially
Chiaroscuro: The Private Lives of Leonardo DaVinci, a Vertigo
title co-created and pencilled by Truog. Truog's use of Native American
artistic motifs throughout the book is a nice addition to the story told
in his pictures, bringing a mystical aura to his work. Again, however,
one wishes that Moonstone would pay more attention to detail, as some of
the lettering guidelines show through in the final reproduction, and
areas where the lettering has been corrected are still visible. A minor
point, to be sure, but distracting nonetheless.
For those interested in the depiction of Native Americans in the history
of American popular culture, Moonstone's Geronimo provides a
viewpoint that is the polar opposite of past comics that have dealt with
the life of Geronimo, books with titles like The Savage Raids of Chief Geronimo and Geronimo and His Apache Murderers. And while we may
be rightly embarrassed at the treatment that Native Americans and other
ethnic minorities have received at the hands of comic book writers and
artists in the past, one wonders whether a treatment such as this one
adds anything to the discussion. When we see Geronimo tearing the scalp
from his enemy and holding it triumphantly above his head, it feels like
the mere reporting of facts, despite the powerful artwork - there is no
sympathy for Geronimo, but neither is there any for his victim.
Geronimo's love interest is introduced only after the first battle
sequence, and the motivation behind Geronimo's continued struggle is not
fully addressed until even later in the story. Ultimately, a viewpoint
in which the actions of characters are all portrayed as being morally
neutral leads to the kind of absence of drama, heroism, or sympathetic
feeling for any of the characters that mars much of this book.
The Western genre is ripe with possibilities, and I'll continue to look
for that new Western that fulfills my expectations. Unfortunately, this
book does little to make me believe that the Western comic book is
making a comeback in any big way. Grade: 2.5/5
-- Jim Witt
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With Geronimo: The Last Apache Warrior, Moonstone Books adds
another figure from American Western mythology to its roster of Western
icons, a lineup that already includes Wyatt Earp, The Cisco Kid, and
Belle Starr. The Last Apache Warrior is a 64-page graphic novel
that lives up to what I've come to expect from Moonstone's books, both
in terms of their willingness to publish "genre" material that isn't
aimed squarely at the mainstream, and the occasional sloppiness and the
lack of polish that is often evident in their finished product.
The
combination of artist and writer works well in this sequence, artfully
playing up the exaggerations of myth against the more mundane facts of
reality. But what we are left with is a series of vignettes, adequate
and interesting on their own, yet not compelling as a whole.