Mudman #1

Everything old is new again. And that isn't always a good thing.

I confess, as a comic reader going on his twentieth year of visiting funnybook shops every week, I've been a bit discouraged lately. I'm in that small but whiny group that doesn't like DC's "New 52," because it renders all of the stories I've cherished these last twenty years as obsolete -- or at least outdated. Additionally, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles recently relaunched under IDW's banner, and while I was excited to pick up the first issue, I was daunted by its focus on a new origin for our half-shelled heroes. Is anything I once knew canon anymore?

Enter Paul Grist's Mudman -- a number one issue you can trust.



I agree with Erik Larsen in his recent response to a letter in Savage Dragon #175. If you're going to start with number one, why not pour that energy into a new idea? Further, if you have a new idea, must you brand it as the end all/be all of everything? Mudman epitomizes both concepts, as a very humble first issue -- a simple cover, the beginning of the young hero's origin story, and crisp, page-popping art. At the same time, you've seen all this before: reckless young person stumbles into a hero's legacy and dons the mantle to discover his own worth in a troubled world. It's the standard superhero premise in new tights . . . oh, and a lot of mud.

You can trust Mudman because of its unabashed embrace of the classic conventions while trying on a new suit; in othe words, it's the best of DC's "New 52" without the headline-grabbing motivation, or the bogged down allegiance to an old icon's integrity. It's a superhero comic for superhero comics' sake, all ages-friendly, and everything the medium used to be.

Everything old is new again. Sometimes it's a good thing.

Blogger's Note: This review was also posted on Nerdvana, a blog for Arizona's East Valley Tribune.

APE 2010: My Super Powers

I can review flyers, right?

Okay, My Super Powers by Neil Brideau, isn't a flyer, but it is a single piece of paper, folded in half, making a four page comic book. Such a format isn't uncommon at the Altnerative Press Expo -- in fact, it's often the norm -- but if you left this little piece of art anywhere else, a layman may incorrectly dub it "a flyer." So, I'm putting it in layman's terms. I'm not a superhero, after all.

Apparently, Neil Brideau is. In fact, he's my kind of superhero: the type with powers anybody can acquire, with enough sheer will. He has out-run the bus he missed. He has a bottom stomach in all-you-can-eat restaurants. Apparently, his hugs are great. See, regular super powers. Like Batman, but without the travel, the fortune, and the perpetual vengeance. So forget Superman or Spawn -- Neil's are the powers that just might save the planet one day.

Seriously, Brideau's strip is a charming little slice of life that boasts a latent love of comics and an appreciation for the minutiae of life. Hey, who cares if it's just one piece of paper? This is the kind of comic absolutely anyone can read, quickly, and happily.

Here's Neil's blog.

APE 2010: Dancing with Jack Ketch: The Life of Jackson Donfaire, Notorious Pirate

I flew into San Francisco on Saturday morning. I returned to Phoenix on Sunday night. Somewhere in between, I had the pleasure of picking up some of the best independent comic books self-published today at the annual Alternative Press Expo, and as is my custom every year, I'd like to review as many of them as I can, albeit in short bursts.

As I read through my swag pile over the next few days, if all of the comics I bought (or traded for) at APE are as good as Josh Shalek's Dancing With Jack Ketch: The Life of Jackson Donfaire, Notorious Pirate, I'm in for a treat. This impressive 40-page minicomic tells the story of, you guessed it, Jackson Donfaire, the son of an escaped slave that manages to elude his would-be masters and stow away on a pirate ship. Through a series of mishaps and twists of fate, Jackson experiences a taste of power, confronts the tragedies of his past, and embraces the promises of his new future.

What I liked best about Josh's story was its historical roots; with a base in early colonial slavery, and a surprisingly down-to-earth portrayal of the classic pirate, one could be led to believe this yarn is spun from real events. Shalek's art betrays a whimsy to his writing style, at times reflecting the style of old Playboy gag panels or The New Yorker comic strips, but his characters offer real depth, just like the ocean to which they're bound. Above all else, Jackson's story is a human one; the pirates stuff is just, well, added treasure.

Josh's work can found at his website, Falling Rock National Park.

Batman: Snow

Batman: Snow (DC Comics): written by Dan Curtis Johnson & J.H. Williams, illustrated by Seth Fisher

A year and a half into his career as the Batman, Bruce Wayne is both tired yet determined to continue his one man war on crime. When he realizes his few friends in arms are limited by their allegiance to the law (James Gordon as a cop, and Harvey Dent as a lawyer, of course), Batman assembles a small, diverse of talented individuals that could offer research and reconnaissance to his cause, and at first their efforts are successful. Unfortunately, parallel to their efforts in capturing an up-and-coming crime lord, the origin of the villainous Mr. Freeze is unfolding elsewhere in Gotham City, and when the plots collide, the results are certainly a snowball of circumstance Batman can no longer control. In the end, Batman dissolves the group and resolves the only partnership that could really benefit him is one involving someone willing to listen to his every marching -- somebody that can watch his back. Good thing the circus, with their feature act the Flying Graysons, are coming to town . . .!

Seth Fisher's art is this story's true selling point, as the artist passed away way before his time and this work stands along Green Lantern: Willworld and Flash: Time Flies as his most mainstream, superhero work. I hate to say it, but honestly I'm not a fan of Fisher's Batman. His work is simply too detail-oriented to depict the Dark Knight as the living shadow many artists personify; for better or worse, Fisher's Batman is way too human. I do like his Mr. Freeze, and the character's incremental development from scientist to hallucinating madman suit Fisher's eclectic style perfectly. Above all, Fisher's passion for illustration is prevalent throughout the story (originally published in single issues of Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight) and is greater evidence that the industry lost a star way too soon.

Mr. Freeze has always been one of my favorite villains, but I hadn't thought of him as Batman's first super-powered villain until this storyline. Indeed, thanks to his suit, his strength and defense is more than an average person could handle, so when Mr. Freeze's bosses and the Gotham underworld work together to weaponize that cryogenic technology, everybody's in over their head, especially Batman. Further, while Batman always brags about flying solo, he is in fact one of the neediest characters in comics, and this story ambitiously and successfully sets the tone for both Bruce Wayne's need to work with others and why he's just so darn picky about it. Batman realizes his limitation as one lone ranger in Gotham, but as events unfold in Snow, he also discovers how a group of conflicting personalities becomes a greater liability than its worth. As much as this is Mr. Freeze's origin, it's also that of Batman's feelings toward Robin and the Justice League. Robin's the kid he was able to mold into the perfect partner; the Justice League is a bunch of adults with different, oft unyielding methods and opinions. Mr. Freeze gave Batman a good reason to have a cold shoulder.

This review was originally published in KaraokeFanboy Weekly #4.

Remembering Comic Con 2010

The First Cut Is the Deepest

Everybody that regularly attends the San Diego Comic Con remembers their first San Diego Comic Con. I first attended in 2000, when my buddy Brent and I scoped out the small press section in anticipation of unveiling our self-published K.O. Comix the following year. I only attended one day, a Saturday, and was overwhelmed by the immensity of the event. Still, despite dense crowds, I approached some of my favorite writers and artists effortlessly, getting autographs and asking about writing technique. I fondly remember brief but meaningful conversations with Jeph Loeb and Greg Rucka. The whole ride home, and really most of the year in between, I eagerly anticipated 2001 and sitting on the other side of the exhibitors' table, like they did.

When that fantasy became a reality, it was a rollercoaster of realized and disappointed expectations all at the same time. Firstly, fellow fanboys weren't mobbing us for our little self-published comic, like they did in my delusions of grandeur, but periodically we experienced brushes with fame, like when a plain-clothed George Takai flipped through our book, or when we realized we were just a few tables down from Phil Hester and Ande Parks. While we weren't of the same caliber as our favorite personalities in the comic book industry, those exhibitor badges still made us one of them, an honor we wore proudly.

Then, one year, it was over. Comic Con became the premiere pop culture event of the year -- not that it wasn't already, but the media was now covering it more heavily than ever before. The small press section was already split into two, and now Comic Con International had more applicants than they could accommodate. We were placed on a waiting list, for naught. Brent and I became (gulp) mere attendees. We had to wait in growing lines like everyone else. We didn't have a table to house our swag, or chairs to sit in when our tootsies got tired. Worst of all, we weren't contributors, with comics of our own on sale. We were just consumers. Of course, this didn't stop us from attending, but the experience certainly wasn't the same.

I've heard friends tell similar tales. One of my fellow fanboys started attending Comic Con in the '80s, before film, television, and video games consumed the exhibit hall, and one could just slip into a panel without worries of long, potentially cut-off lines. Featured guests were comic book writers and artists, period. Even in 2000, I knew Comic Con was a multi-media event. Who could really blame Hollywood for seizing a chance to travel to San Diego in July, especially when they could write off the trip as a marketing expense?

Convention Retention

This year, I finally found a way to make the Con work for me. My girlfriend and I only purchased Friday passes, so I knew my time was limited. I made a list of the comics I hoped to find and set a goal for the amount of money I'd spend on them, and I was determined to chat with old friends in the small press section. Along the way, I decided to pass out my latest comic personally, sans table or booth, despite any awkward obligation on the receiving end. I'd purchased my Mattel exclusives on-line so acquiring those action figures in the fulfillment center was more of an errand and less of a chore. Overall, I'm satisfied with the results. I scored great deals on comics and put my fingers on the pulse of small press again. I even saw my favorite artist Erik Larsen drawing Spider-man and his flagship character, Savage Dragon (below). I actually felt that same excitement that gripped me back in 2000, when I went to Comic Con with the hope of experiencing comic book culture in a way I hadn't before.



Location, Location, Location



Of course, after Comic Con, the news media at large over-analyzes the event, a tradition as steadfast now as camping outside of Hall H, and the one that bothers me most. More so than A-list movie star cameo appearances, these analyses elevate the Con past its comic roots, making it a sociological experiment pop culture pundits can mock for both its scope and substance. When you read, "Is Comic Con too big for San Diego?" the author is often really asking, "Why is Comic Con too big for San Diego?" Conjecture that the Con will move to Las Vegas is the mainstream media's way of begging it to move there -- to an adult playground they can better understand. The Los Angeles area has been suggested, too, probably because Spider-man and Edward Scissorhands can already be found outside the Mann Chinese Theater, so the locals are used to the weirdness.

Alas, trust me, Hollywood loves San Diego. It's far enough away to be vacation but close enough to make transporting a whole faux Stargate reasonable and cost-effective. Move Comic Con to Anaheim or L.A., and you won't see Angelina Jolie there again. She deals with those paparazzi everyday, and enduring the 5 Freeway's crush isn't worth a hour in a panel for 4000 fans. Move it to Vegas, and the cost of transporting set pieces like sky rockets . . . well, sky rockets. What I, and most others that attend, love about San Diego is how it absorbs the Con so effortlessly now. It becomes the city, and the city becomes the Con. In Vegas, Comic Con would just be one of a million other things happening -- and worst of all, if it happens in Vegas, all that awesome stuff just might stay there, and I'd like to remember taking a picture between Teela and Evil-Lynn, thank you very much.

The Pen is Mightier . . .

This year will suffer from the Hall H stabbing incident, as well. In the post-Con analyses I've read, folks attribute the sudden violence to the event's exponential growth, and its inability to shuffle the crowd in a way to please everyone. The perp's problem was his neighbor camping through one panel to view another, right? I've griped about this issue, too, but I've never felt compelled to strike! Unfortunately, for the immediate future, all attendees will have to live with this stigma, that we're just that into it. The Westboro Baptist Church's protests, as silly as they were, could've been vindicated in that moment, especially in the "eye for an eye" justice of the incident. How policies will change to avoid incidents like this has yet to be determined, but I'm certain that word of next year's convention events will be preceded with changes to make sure Comic Con isn't in the cross hairs of another controversy like this.

Bringing It Full Cycle

Oh, and let's not forget the biggest news of the weekend: Tyrese got a speeding ticket on a bike courier. Thanks for keeping us in the loop, TMZ. The lesson is clear -- Comic Con is a fluid thing, perhaps moving too fast for its own good. It's only worth the ride when you decide to grab the handlebars and steer yourself through the experience.

Movie Review: Batman: Under the Red Hood

When I first heard that the next DC animated feature was going to be Batman: Under the Red Hood, I wondered how the film would pull off a story incorporating critical details from The Killing Joke, A Death in the Family, and Infinite Crisis. Apparently, Bruce Timm had similar concerns, or so he confessed at the San Diego Comic Con panel that premiered the film. Fortunately, writer Judd Winick pitched the film thoroughly and excitedly enough (via telephone conference from San Francisco to Burbank, to boot) to earn the green light. As a fan that always prefers the source material to cinematic adaptation, I must say, Under the Red Hood is the exception, and not because of what Winick managed to cram from decades' worth of comics into a mere 70 minutes.

It's because of what he didn't.



First of all, the story of Jason Todd is a cornerstone to my comic book collecting career. I vividly remember buying a Batman comic book three-pack from K-Mart when I was a kid, perhaps even before the box of comics my dad scored at his moving job that changed everything, and, anyway, those three comics were Batman #408-410. On the heels of Year One, which I knew nothing about at the time, the origin of Jason Todd was rebooted to boast more humble beginnings as an orphan surviving in the streets of Crime Alley. As a child on the verge of adolescence, I loved this interpretation, and especially its contrast from Dick Grayson's Robin -- while the Dynamic Duo was still a team, their relationship was truly dynamic now, truly multi-dimensional.

Then, Jason died.

I knew Jason was going to die, because I'd seen issues of A Death in the Family on newsstands a few years prior, but I never knew the whole story: how he and Batman met, his controversial role as the second Robin, and the circumstances around his death. The trade paperback of A Death in the Family cleared up everything, and as a young person still developing his concept of death, not to mention how these make-believe superheroes affected my real life, I cherished these tales. As I grew familiar with the flakiness of death in comics, I grew particularly fond of writer/editor Denny O'Neil's quote on the back of the trade: "It would be a really sleazy stunt to bring him back." That's how I knew; Jason was dead, and death carries permanent consequences. It's everybody else's job to live with those consequences.

Then, Jason returned.

Through a series of convoluted cosmic circumstances, DC Comics found a way to bring Batman's second ward back, but it wasn't as quick as that beloved four issue story that killed him. No, DC took years to hint at Jason's resurrection, first in the high profile Jeph Loeb/Jim Lee collaboration Hush, then through a series of stories and finally an annual that offered the final piece of the mystery to Robin's defiance of death. Ready? When an angry Superboy from a parallel earth punched the multiverse (the hub of endless multiple realities), Jason Todd from a realm where he survived slipped into our world -- that is, the one where he was six feet under. He clawed his way out of the grave, was recovered by Ra's Al Ghul, and after a maddening jolt from a Lazarus Pit, when a bit nuts and became him own man. I told you they were convoluted circumstances.

For Under the Red Hood, Judd Winick put that story on a diet. First of all, no cosmic crises. Too much indigestion. Secondly, he kept the return to Jason Todd linear, without offshoots like Hush getting in the way. He presents the story as chronologically as possible: Batman has a new partner, Robin was captured and murdered by the Joker, then a mysterious man wearing a Red Hood (like the Joker did before he became the Clown Prince of Crime) rapidly takes over Gotham's underworld. I won't elaborate and spoil the minute details, but stripping this story to its bare bones makes it much more emotionally effective, and from a marketing perspective, more universally approachable.

That the action kicks butt certainly helps. The Red Hood is very explosion-happy, but the fisticuffs are what makes this cartoon not your daddy's Batman. From Batman and Nightwing's scrap with Amazo (one of my favorite recent comic book bouts, and one I'm grateful made the transition to film) to the climatic battle royale between Batman, the Red Hood, and the Joker, every blow has fluidity, purpose, and impact. The fighting actually moves the story along, rather than breaks it up to keep your interest, and since both elements are good independently, watching them work together was even better.

I will say, though, that I was amused by how every action sequence ended with a shot of a tight-lipped Batman, trying to process it all. It became redundant and therein kind of hilarious.

The film is quick witted, too, thanks in no small part to Neil Patrick Harris as Nightwing. When you think about it, Dick Grayson is comics' first and most prominent child star, and like NPH he has found a career in adulthood independent of that image. I wasn't as nuts about Joe DiMaggio's Joker as the crowd at the screening was, probably because I, like many others, am used to Mark Hamill's high-pitched inflection and cackle. DiMaggio's Joker was a bit more understated and even-toned; in short, it was masculine, as only DiMaggio could be, and I've never perceived the Joker as something less than a force of nature before.

Now, I'm a sucker for last lines. Forget Dickens' "best of times, worst of times" shtick; anybody can write a poignant first line. I'm most interested in all-encompassing last lines, those that sum up the tone of the piece perfectly, and maybe leave you a bit wanting. I won't ruin it, but Under the Red Hood has it. I feared the typical pan upward toward the Gotham skyline, or the standard swinging superhero sequence, but Winick was wise enough to give us something more, something that practically explains the entire motivation behind the film, not to mention the Batman/Robin partnership. Further, the way he pulls it off really couldn't have been done in the comics, not in established continuity. So, I'm grateful for this retelling. It doesn't make bringing back Jason Todd any less of a stunt . . .

. . . but now it seems a little less sleazy.

Batman: Under the Red Hood will be released on DVD, BluRay, and On Demand July 27.

Can YOU Find the A-Team?

I posted my thoughts on the new A-Team movie, and the phenomenon surrounding the franchise, here.

Enter: Whiplash!

Mattel unveiled their latest Masters of the Universe Classics figure a few days ago: Whiplash. While for many He-Man fans, Whiplash may be a rather minor minion in Skeletor's army, I remember the character fondly, not so much for who he is, but for how I first met him. My family was vacationing in Florida, and we found and bought Whiplash after the highlight of our trip, a day at Disney World. For the long flight back to Connecticut, I stood Whiplash on my folded down tray, swinging his spring action tail and waiting for the moment I could pit him against He-Man when we finally got home. In the midst of potential boredom, that single action figure helped my imagination soar, even as we did quite literally over the east coast. For that, I'll always be grateful to Whiplash. He earned his name that day, because I don't mind snapping backward at the memory.