Comic-Con 2008: The Rest of the Con

Okay, so I posted about preview night of Comic-Con International:San Diego; then have remained silent until now. Well, during the con I was too busy to post; and since then (a) I've been working like a dog; (b) I've been unpacking; (c) I've been working on uploading lots of photos, and the bulk uploaders on my laptop aren't cooperating; or (d) all of the above. (Anyone who's taken a multiple choice test knows: when in doubt, pick the last choice.)

Anyway, this con was one of the best San Diego Comic-Cons I've been to -- and I've been to 22 of them in the last 28 years. This despite the capacity crowd (it sold out before the first day of the con) and some unseasonable grey weather.



Thursday morning began with a blast of humor as I attended the Tiny Toons/Freakazoid panel. Along with Warner Brothers Animation stalwarts Bruce Timm, Paul Dini, Andrea Romano and MC Paul Rugg (the voice of Freakazoid), the panel featured my old friend John P. McCann, who was a writer/producer/voice actor on Freakazoid back in the mid-nineties. (John was one of two TV writer-producers at our wedding 11 years ago. I'll talk about the other one shortly.)








I didn't get a chance to talke to John, but we did get to catch up with his wife Joy, aka Miss Attila (see the link to her blog on the right margin).



I attended a spotlight on one of the guests of honor, photorealistic comics penciller Paul Gulacy; and found out that he could do a terrific Sinatra impersonation. Gulacy revealed that when he was drawing "Master of Kung-Fu" back in the pre-VCR days, he would attend martial-arts movies in grindhouse theatres, toting an audio tape recorder with him. After the flick, when he sat at his drawing board, he would play back his tapes of the fight scenes; and when he heard the kyaas and grunts and impacts, he could play the fights back in his mind and draw them.



Later that afternoon, we went to a panel on the upcoming RED SONJA movie. Red Sonja is a character with an odd provenance: Seventies Conan the Barbarian comics writer Roy Thomas based her on a character Conan creator Robert E. Howard had wrote in a non-Conan story, but inserted her into the Conan universe. She was fairly popular when she appeared in a two-part Conan story, but her popularity exploded in the mid-seventies when her fairly practical battle outfit (a mail shirt and leather hot pants) was transformed into the most impractical suit of armor in history: a scale-mail bikini that left most of her body exposed. In the eighties, the producers of the Conan movie made a highly forgettable RS movie with Brigette Nielson, minus the bikini. Later, when Marvel lost the license for Conan, it also lost the license for Sonja -- a character created for Marvel. Currently, Dark Horse has the license for Conan and Dynamite has the comics license for Sonja. Now, Robert Rodrieguez (of SPY KIDS, DESPERADO, and SIN CITY fame) is planning a new Sonja movie, inspired by the issues of SAVAGE SWORD OF CONAN he used to read as a kid. Rodrieguez won't direct it; his assistant director on several projects, Doug Aarniokoski, will (because he's DGA and Rodrieguez quit that organization), with lots of collaboration by Rodrieguez. The actress chosen as Sonja, Rose McGowan (whom GRINDHOUSE viewers will remember as the lady with the machine gun on her stump), appeared on the panel with Rodrieguez. And the poster art they flashed showed that, yes, she would be wearing the bikini (although it's more of a tankini now).



We attended a panel put together by Entertainment Weekly featuring Jim Lee, Grant Morrison, Colleen Doran, John Cassaday, and Mike Mignola (fortunately, the room did not ignite from sheer talent); and finished off the day by visiting our comics writer friend who was holding court in the lobby lounge of a nearby hotel. He snapped this picture of us:



We started Friday out with the panel for BATMAN: BRAVE AND THE BOLD, the latest animated incarnation of the Caped Crusader. (I'm too tired to count all the animated series that have featured the Darknight Detective.) This one avoids the dark, brooding version of our hero; the producers rightly opine that the Bruce Timm-Alan Burnett series from the nineties did the dark animated Batman about as well as it can be done. Instead, this series takes the more cartoony version of Batman drawn by 40's to '60's artist Dick Sprang, and tries to do a lighter-hearted Batman that is still action-packed and not a total goofball. The footage shown looked great.




I somehow managed to get into Hall H for one of the most anticipated movie-project presentations of the con: WATCHMAN. (Amy wasn't able to join me; the 6,500 seat hall quickly filled to capacity.) 300 director Zack Snyder and artist Dave Gibbons introduced essentially the entire cast of Watchmen, most of them relative unknowns except for Billy Crudup (who was so good in ALMOST FAMOUS) as godlike naked blue guy Dr. Manhattan; and Carla Gugino (the mom from SPY KIDS, KAREN SISCO, and the topless parole officer from SIN CITY) as Sally Jupiter, the superhero stage mom with a dark secret. The cast was tremendously enthusiastic, and the footage shown truly looked ripped from the graphic novel.

Here's Dave Gibbons on the panel:



Here's Crudup:



And some other cast members.



That afternoon, I attended the Scribe Awards/Media Tie-in Writer's Panel, primarily because my cousin Lee Goldberg (who co-founded the tie-in writer's organization that gave out the awards) was on the panel. When I got to the panel, Lee was waiting outside with his cute daughter Maddie. He shared the panel with co-found Max Allen Collins, STAR WARS/DUNE author Kevin J. Anderson (who handed out gummy sandworms as a promo for his latest DUNE book), and veteran SF/tie-in writer Alan Dean Foster. Everybody took turns telling Foster how much they loved his STAR TREK LOG novelizations of the STAR TREK animated series in the seventies. (I loved them too.) Lee won an award for his Monk novel MR. MONK AND THE TWO ASSISTANTS (which the moderator mispronounced, twice, as MR. MONK AND THE TWO ASSASSINS).





Yes, Lee was the other TV writer/producer at our wedding. (And Maddie was there too, although she doesn't remember it now . . . )



Amy put on a costume and took part in a HELLSING costume photoshoot:





Then we hied ourselves to a local theater where Viz was screening the first BLEACH movie, BLEACH: MEMORIES OF NOBODY. The film was important to us for two reasons: First, when we were in Japan last year, the DVD of the film was just coming out; and we loved the Japanese announcer for the TV commercials who intoned -- with that odd cadence of one delivering lines in a foreign language -- the English words "Bleach! Memories of Nobody!" Second, the creator of the Bleach manga, Tite Kubo, attended the screening, as did several winners of an essay contest given by Weekly Shonen Jump, the mag that publishes BLEACH in Japan. As was explained at the screening, this was Kubo's first appearance in North America; and it was rare for creators of weekly manga features to venture abroad, because they have to produce a mind-boggling 19 pages of story and art EVERY WEEK. (Kubo's been doing that for seven years!) But the magazine allowed him to get ahead on the feature so that he could make this trip. The movie itself was fun, if primarily an excuse to allow each of the supporting characters in the strip to appear and show off his or her power.

Saturday began with an extra special treat: I was one of twenty winners of an online contest to actually meet Kubo, and get his autograph on a specially-prepared Bleach Shikishi (autograph board). Despite some logistical problems, I managed to get my autograph; and wished the smiling, Rayban-wearing, red-hair-dyed Kubo-sensei (in Japanese)a good time in America -- to which he responded, in English, "Thank you very much."




Amazingly, I then managed to get into another panel I had been looking forward to: one concerning the new comics anthology COMIC BOOK TATTOO, featuring stories inspired by the lyrics of Tori Amos. Ms. Amos herself was front and center in the panel, and was both articulate and entertaining, particularly when delivering imitations of her exasperated conversations with her English-accented daughter.






Getting into the Tori panel was particularly surprising because although I had secured seats in the room before the panel (by slipping into the Ralph Bakshi panel while Bakshi was waxing political -- "If you don't vote for Obama, you're crazy!"), I left it when I received a phone call on my cell from Seattle-based comic book writer/artist Mike Grell. Grell was doing sketches by commission at the con, and would take the cell phone number of the, er, commissioners. Thus summoned, I met him at his table at Artist's Alley, and picked up a beautiful sketch of Saturn Girl of the Legion of Superheroes (which Grell drew in the mid-seventies). I then fought my way upstream through the attendees who inevitably throng the dealer's room on Saturday; and still managed to score a seat fairly close to the front of the room.

(Interestingly, although publications such as the L.A. Times have bemoaned that the interest in comics programming at the con has been eclipsed by the movie blitzing, I noted that some of the hardest panels to get into were those aimed squarely at comics fans. I tried to get into some of Mark Evanier's comics history panels after they started, only to be confronted with a sign on the door of Room 8 announcing the room was at capacity.)



One of the best panels on Saturday was the one celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Legion of Superheroes, the ever-expanding band of future teen superfolk that has maintained a loyal fan following for decades. The panel included Paul Levitz (who wrote the Legion in the Seventies and Eighties, and is now president of DC Comics), Keith Giffen (who drew and plotted the Legion in the eighties), Mike Grell (discussed above), Tom and Mary Bierbaum (the married couple of Legion fans who wrote the comic in the late eighties), Geoff Johns (currently writing a Legion miniseries), and Colleen Doran (Legion fan and, often, artist). It's a joy to be in a room where everyone's so enthusiastic about the subject material.

Saturday ended with the Comic-Con masquerade, to which our friends Natalie and Sarah (who were in the masquerade) got us VIP tickets. (Unfortunately, the fellow "VIPs" behind us apparently took their status as license to talk non-stop.)



Here's some photos of our friends on stage:





On Sunday, we packed up our toys; had breakfast at Cafe Noir, down the street from our hotel, and hit the con for the last time. We attended a panel about the goth icon Emily the Strange (a merchandising juggernaut, with stores in Hong Kong and Tokyo),



one about Elfquest, the long-running (30 years) comics series which has been optioned by Warner Brothers for a film (the director was on the panel),





another on The Art of the Cover (moderated by Evanier -- the last of the 17 panels he MC'd);





and a last strike at the Dealer's Room before we said goodby to the con. (And the Con said goodbye to us . . . .)





Our last comics event of the evening was the movie we watched while waiting for the traffic to die down: HELLBOY II: THE GOLDEN ARMY. It was a fun and visually beautiful movie, even if the paper-thin plot depended on supposedly brilliant characters doing really stupid things. (Mild spoiler: I am sick of fantasy movies in which the characters spend most of the movie trying to keep the magical macguffin the bad guy needs to take over/rule/destroy the world away from him; and then deliberately deliver said macguffin directly to the bad guy. Whatever happened to outwitting your opponent?)

That was it for another Comic-Con. Hope the next one is as good or better.

The Hoary Hosts of "Holy!"

For those tired of recent news articles that celebrate the literary value of graphic novels, today's LA Time Calendar section featured a front-page article about "slabbing" comics -- i.e., having a third-party grading service such as Comics Guarantee Corporation grade a comic's condition, and then seal the comic in plastic, freezing the comic's condition at the moment of evaluation.

The article features two hallmarks of traditional news articles about comic books. First, it focused entirely on the "investment" value of the comics. (How many "Don't throw out those funnybooks! They could be worth a fortune!" articles have been published in the last thirty-five years?) Second, it featured the use of the adjective "Holy" in the title, followed by a pun and an exclamation point.

I find extraordinary that journalists still feel that they are being clever by including this tribute to the 1966 BATMAN TV series in their articles, for three reasons. First, it's cliche of the lowest order. Second, Burt Ward's "Holy _____!" expressions were invented for the TV show; the Robin of the comics seldom, if ever, commented on the situation in such a manner before the TV series became a hit. How, then, has the expression come to symbolize all that is comic-booky in the eyes of the Fourth Estate, to the extent where its use in a newspaper article is practically mandatory?

Finally, the BATMAN TV series debuted forty-one years ago. Generations have sprung up since then who know not from the TV show. They know Batman from the more recent movies, or the animated series of the 90's and the 00's, or even -- just maybe -- from the comics. If they have not seen the BATMAN show in syndication, they are likely scratching their heads at these "Holy" references. Recall that forty-one years before the BATMAN TV show appeared was 1925; and somehow I don't think many kids in 1966 were walking around saying "23 Skidoo" or "Oh you kid" to each other.

Big, Bouncy, Shiny and Whiney

On the eve of the Silver Surfer's debut as a movie character in the second Fantastic Four movie (and with the Surfer's simonized dome protruding from the tops of billboards all over SoCal), Marvel has issued the SILVER SURFER OMNIBUS, which collects all 18 issues of the Surfer's late-sixties early-seventies comic book series -- plus a frequently-reprinted Surfer solo story from a FANTASTIC FOUR annual, and a Surfer parody story from Marvel's satire comic NOT BRAND ECHH -- into a substantial, 570-page color coffee-table hardcover.



The book retails for $75 (although I bought mine for $60 at my local comics emporium; and you can get it for about that price at Amazon and Barnes & Noble online). That's actually a pretty fair price, since Marvel's "Masterworks" reprint books run about $60 for ten issues' worth of reprints (with less quality). Plus, the Surfer comics featured longer-than-normal stories; and the Omnibuses, unlike the Masterworks editions, feature the letter columns from each issue.

The comic series is a fascinating slice of comics history from the era of the King and Bobby Kennedy assasinations, of Vietnam and demonstrations. Writer/editor Stan Lee used the comics as a vehicle for his most philosophical writing -- resulting in lots of panels in which the Surfer sails around the outer atmosphere, gesticulating like a ham Shakespearean actor, whining about man's inhumanity to man, interspersed with kick-ass action sequences. The stories in general take a dark view toward humanity, emphasizing the menace of mobs, intolerance as the normal human condition, and paranoia vying with greed.

This mix does not necessarily result in uniformly well-written stories. Lee's forte was and is not necessarily brilliant plots -- indeed, most of his Marvel stories consisted of loose plots or discussions with the artists, leaving the artists to essentially plot and lay out the story before Lee stepped in and wrote the dialogue. Here, Lee must contend with a protagonist who is powerful enough to rearrange the molecular structure of matter with a gesture. About the only limit to the Surfer's power is the barrier that his former boss, Galactus, placed around the Earth to pen the Surfer in -- the cause of much of the Surfer's kvetching. Faced with trying to create challenges for such a puissant main character, Lee makes the Surfer's nemesis no less than the Devil Himself -- personified as Mephisto, whom artist John Buscema depicts as a red, muscular man with a leonine face. Since Mephisto moves in mysterious ways, his plots don't always have to make strict sense -- and they don't. One has to read the two-part story in which Mephisto turns the Flying Dutchman into a claw-handed cyborg (???)to appreciate the loopiness of the story.

Where Lee's writing shone, however, was in his language. Lee is a writer who, like Bradbury and Vonnegut, is in love with the music of the English language. Working in the clipped vernacular endemic to comics, Lee nevertheless uses rhythm, alliteration, bardic appellations, and a sparkling vocabulary to make the abundant dialogue sing. There are phrases in these stories that pop into my head at times decades after I've read them, such as Mephisto's description of his negotiation technique: "Now, where CAJOLERY has failed -- let CARNAGE succeed!"

The best run of the series comes early, in issues 3 through 5. Issue 3 features Mephisto's New Testament style attempt to first tempt, then beat, then extort the Surfer into giving up his soul -- including using the Surfer's girlfriend from his home planet, the Barbara Feldman lookalike Shalla Bal, as a bargaining chip. Issue 4 is a beautifully-drawn battle between the Surfer and the Marvel versions of the Norse Gods, including Thor. Issue 5 is a convoluted yet intriguiging story, in which the Surfer is faced with raising a lot of money in a hurry. Being an honest soul, he goes out in a trenchcoat, sunglasses and slacks -- looking unsettlingly like Michael Jackson would thirty years later -- and tries to get a job; but can't land one without experience or a Social Security card. He tries to rob a bank, but his conscience gets the better of him. He finally acquires the money by cheating his way through a rigged craps game, letting the thugs who ran the game roll him, and then stealing the money back!

The art for these issues is, without exception, excellent -- some of the best Marvel has produced. John Buscema drew every issue except the last (which Surfer creator Jack Kirby illustrated), and his art before and after was never as superb in its spectacle and storytelling as it was here.

The letters columns are a treat in themselves. In light of its philosophical bent, the column attracted correspondence from college students across the nation, themselves engaged in the societal soul-searching of the time. The letters definitely do not toe any line of political correctness. In issue 5 of the series, physicist Al Harper befriends and aids the Surfer. When SS asks Harper why, Harper -- who is black -- muses, "Mebbe it's 'cause I know how it FEELS to be pushed around!" In issue 8's letter column, a correspondent from North Carolina apparently takes this comment personally. "That was uncalled for!" he protests. "For months you've been knocking 'us' (you know who I mean). It sounds as if we were all big, bad murderers who liked hurting minorities." The writer insists, "I'm not a racist," but states he doesn't want Marvel "ruined" by something "that really doesn't concern you as comic publishers" -- i.e., a "civil rights protest." The response to the letter replies that "such matters as racism and equality do concern us . . . as human beings."

The SILVER SURFER OMNIBUS is worth checking out -- not just as a time capsule, but as a fun example of what made Marvel Marvel.

Comics Adaptions in Review

In honor of the release of SPIDER-MAN 3, Rottentomatoes.com, the Web compendium of movie-critical mass, lists the 100 best-reviewed comic adaptations of all time ("best" being, of course, a relative term when you discuss movies at the bottom.) The list ranges from "Son of the Mask" and "Elektra" at the bottom of the barrel to "American Splendor" and "Spider-Man 2" at the top. The lesson: A good comic-book adaptation, like a good book adaptation, must be, first and foremost, a good movie.

Spider-Man: Third Time's Charming

Last night, we went to The Bridge to see SPIDER-MAN 3. Although the theatre had been showing the movie on multiple screens round-the-clock since midnight, the 10:30 p.m. showing was packed. That augers well for a movie that has apparently been scheduled to jump to the head of a summer season packed with sequels. (The other two big #3's -- SHREK and PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN -- are also scheduled to open this month.)

As for the movie, I was primed for dissapointment, based on the reviews by Kenneth Turan (for the LA Times and NPR) and Owen Glieberman (for Entertainment Weekly). Fortunately, I was disappointed in my disappointment: It was pretty damn good. In fact, the three Spidey movies have set a benchmark among superhero franchises in maintaining a high level of quality through three movies. (Remember SUPERMAN 3? Or, if your memory doesn't go back that far, last year's X-MEN III?) A large chunk of the credit must go to keeping the same visionary director (Sam Raimi) and the same excellent cast across three movies.

This, of course, is the movie where the creators broke from the previous two movies' format of one bad guy per movie (each of whom dies in the movie -- cinema villains seldom go to jail); and instead had multiple bad guys. Even revealing how many they had would be giving away good sections of the plot. Even so, the plot does not just focus on the external hero vs. villain battles (although those are some of the most spectacular ever captured on film); this is a movie about relationships in trouble. All kinds of relationships. Current boyfriends and girlfriends. Past boyfriends and girlfriends. Guy-guy friendships. Guy-guy-girl friendships. Work rivalries. Even a broken relationship between a guy and a black puddle of goo from outer space. (Hell hath no fury like a symbiote scorned.)

It also features Peter Parker (Toby Maguire) either out of costume, or wearing it like a pair of power underwear, through several conflicts -- both emotional and physical. Even when he's in the Spidey-suit, the director finds every excuse to either rip his hood off or tear it open. Part of it is his desire to focus on that expressive hounddog-puppy face of Maguire. But I can also see the logic in staging some of the battles in civilian clothes: A scene of two guys whaling the tar out of each other feels a lot more personal when they're clad in mufti than when they're wearing face-concealing masks.

The movie loses some of the benefits the previous two drew from having a single villain, who could be developed in depth. The second one also had the asset of a screenplay by Michael Chabon. The lack of these assets no doubt set off a lot of the critics who loved the first two. But I still walked away feeling I had received my umpteen dollars (The Bridge's tickets are expensive) worth.

Marshall Rogers Originals

As promised below, here are photos of my three Marshall Rogers original art pages. The top one is from a circa-1981 Doctor Strange story from the anthology series MARVEL FANFARE. It's written by Chris Claremont, and features Rogers's only (to my knowledge) collaboration with artist P. Craig Russell, who inked this page. In the middle is a page from Rogers's run on the regular DOCTOR STRANGE comic, also circa 1981. This page is from DOCTOR STRANGE #50, and features the time-travelin' sorcerer supreme meeting his old STRANGE TALES roommate Nick Fury (and one of his Howlin' Commandoes) in a blitz-period London pub. The inker is Terry Austin, and the writer is Roger Stern. The third is one of the gems of my collection: The splash page from the first issue of Rogers's 1977-1978 run on DETECTIVE COMICS with inker Austin and writer Steve Englehart, hailed as one of the best depictions of Batman in the character's multi-decade history.

All three pages show many of Rogers's strengths: His expressive faces, his cartoony touches, his skill at depicting architecture and stage settings, and his marvelous ability with comic-book storytelling. Each panel communicates more story than most artists can fit in an entire page.

The Doctor Strange pages are copyrighted by Marvel Comics. The Detective page is copyrighted by DC Comics/Warner Communications/Etc.

Marshall Rogers, R.I.P.

This one hit me in the gut. Marshall Rogers was one of those rare comic book artists who (a) had a style all his own and (b) carried it off brilliantly. His versions of Batman and Doctor Strange, along with the characters he created or co-created (Coyote, Scorpio Rose, Cap'n Quick, the Foozle) were unforgettable.

He didn't make it out to the West Coast much, but he did appear at an LA convention in 1991 and I had a nice chat with him. I also have three of his original art pages up on the walls of my house. I'll post pictures of them soon.

The only fortunate part is that he and writer Steve Engelhart were able to create one more Batman story together, last year, before Rogers succumbed at the far-too-young age of 57.

Sgt. Leonidas and His Howlin' Spartans

I've seen three recently-made war movies in the last few weeks: 2006's LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA and JARHEAD; and, this morning, 300. All from different eras (WWII, Desert Storm, Ancient Greece); yet all with striking similarities. Indeed, if LETTERS and 300 were not based on historical events, they might be criticised for the similarity of their plots. Both feature groups of soldiers facing invading forces. In both, the defending soldiers have no hope of victory; their plan is to make the invasion as costly as possible. In both, soldiers assert a "no retreat, no surrender" approach to warfare. Both feature resolute commanders who fight undermining forces from without and within. Both are filmed with a dark, brooding work -- the work of filters in LETTERS and wholly-artificially-created scenery in 300.

As for JARHEAD, its depiction of the Marine training and ethos harkens back to that of the Spartans in 300, who have provided an inspiration for fighting men for centuries. Parallels can be seen in the training scenes: For both the Spartans and the Marines, rough training can cost lives.

The differences are striking too. In 300, most of the movie is battle. In LETTERS, we see bits of the battle, but the focus is on the Japanese soldiers' reaction to the battle, both in anticipation and during the fighting. In JARHEAD, the Marines are trained to kill, come under fire, and see the horrible results of war -- and yet never really get to fight. Further, in JARHEAD, the Marines are the invading force, rather than the defenders.

Another important difference is how the "no surrender, no retreat" philosophy is depicted in practice. In 300, it is a mark of honor; the Spartans succeed in turning their sacrifice into an example which fires Greece (sorry) with the will to defend. In LETTERS, the Japanese soldiers who respond to the order to retreat and regroup (which if obeyed might have resulted in a more effective defense) by committing suicide, blowing themselves up with grenades, are shown as dogmatic and foolish, accomplishing nothing. Further, the sacrifice of the Japanese soldiers on Iwo Jima, from the perspective of history, accomplished little except persuading the Allies to try out the atomic bomb on Japan rather than risk an invasion.

As somebody who read the 300 comic book miniseries by Frank Miller and Lynn Varley when it came out in 1998, I have to laugh at some of the criticisms leveled at the movie. Although the film seems to be commenting about the current situation with Iran (aka Persia) and Iraq (and the scenes added in the film version involving Sparta's legislature add to that image), the story is really another chapter in Miller's ongoing obsession with tough folks. He therefore focused on the toughest warriors in the history of western civilization (the Spartans), and on the toughest Spartans in history (the 300). The speeches -- many of them taken directly from the comic -- about the defense of western civilization are inherently political; but nearly all of Miller's work (excepting maybe some of his DAREDEVIL and SIN CITY stories) are inherently political.

The silliest criticism I've heard is that the foes the Spartans battle are nonwhite, while the Spartans are all white. I'm sorry, but I don't think there's any history of the Spartans being a melting pot of ethnicities; they were all Greeks. It might make a more politically correct story if they were like SGT FURY AND HIS HOWLIN' COMMANDOS -- which, as comics fans will recall, contained one Irishman from Boston, one Jewish soldier from Brooklyn, one Italian soldier who looked like Dean Martin, one African-American soldier who played a bugle, and one Englishman who wore a beret and used an umbrella as a weapon -- but that's not this story.

Buffy's Four-Color Season

Tomorrow's LA Times has an article (available on the Website today -- another sign of the Times' announced commitment to focus its attention on its Website instead of its paper) about Joss Whedon's plans to produce the eighth season of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" in a 30-episode comic book series from license mavens Dark Horse.

This isn't the first time that TV creators have supplemented TV series with comics miniseries; J. Michael Straczynski wrote or co-wrote several comic books that told side stories concerning his BABYLON 5 TV series; and Whedon himself wrote the comics miniseries FRAY, a story about a future vampire slayer that dovetailed into the final TV season of BUFFY.

But this series is innovative both in continuing the plotline of a finished TV series; and in Whedon's plan to produce the series like he show-ran the TV series: He will write the first five issues, and then have subsequent issues written by staff writers (drawn from his staff writers for the TV series) in collaboration with comics writers.

Comics writers, movie writers, and novelists writing comics series have been the rage for a few years, ever since Kevin Smith wrote a memorable run of DAREDEVIL in the late 90's that in part led to the run's artist, Joe Quesada, becoming editor in chief of Marvel. Some are better at it than others: Whedon took to comics like a natural; Smith started out too verbose, but adjusted; mystery novelist Greg Rucka became a fantastic comics writer; and novelist Brad Meltzer has been hit-and-miss. Comics writing is tricky, in that comics resemble movies and TV (they tell stories through the interaction of words and pictures, and the rules of panel-to-panel storytelling resemble those of movie directing and editing) but are ultimately different (comics stories must be told through a series of static images that give the illusion of action; movement within a panel must be implied; and comics offer the advantages of image juxtaposition and page design which can only be artificially and clumsily duplicated in movies through split-screen). It will be interesting to see how Whedon's staff writers adjust.

The image is from the LA Times Website; and doesn't carry a copyright notice, but I'm guessing it's copyrighted by Dark Horse and Warner Brothers.

Surfing in Silver

When TERMINATOR 2 came out in the early '90's, it was obvious to comic book fans that the technology used to create the liquid-metal T-1000 would likely be used one day to replicate one of Jack Kirby's most visually striking creations: The Silver Surfer. This weekend, the teaser trailer for FANTASTIC FOUR: THE RISE OF THE SILVER SURFER is playing in theatres with NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM; and the image above, from the movie, makes evident that the movie's version of Norrin Radd is indeed the descendant of the T-1000.

Although the comics have always described the Surfer as wearing a silver-metal coating, the comics have been inconsistent on depicting him that way. Kirby drew him as sort of a gun-metal color, rather than with a mirror-silver finish; he had a metallic glint, but was not reflective. And John Buscema, who drew him in his late-sixties-early-seventies series (which, as the panels above show, depicted him as the universe's most philosophical whiner), essentially drew him as high-gloss white. Only when the Surfer's series was resurrected in the mid-eighties, by the team of writer Steve Engelhart and artist Marshall Rogers, did Rogers finally draw the Surfer as shiny silver.

As I blogged last year, I liked the first FF movie (though many didn't), and based on the trailer description I'm looking forward to this sequel.

The images above are copyrighted by Marvel Entertainment.

It Was the Weekend that Was

Another lazy weekend.

On Friday, Amy was working late, so I headed over to Santa Monica's Unurban Coffee House to watch and listen to Open Mic Night. Friday nights at the Unurban are one of the best entertainment deals in town. For no cover charge (except a couple bucks for a drink or a brownie) you get to hear an eclectic night full of surprisingly talented performers. Within the space of a couple hours, I heard not only the stereotypical skinny blonde 20-something guitar strummers, but also 60-something blues artists, a string quartet of guitars and mandolins, a country-western singer who kept singing about her friends ("Oh yes, he was a friend of miiine . . . "), and two young women singing Japanese songs in perfect harmony.

On Saturday, after I missed the UCLA-USC game on TV (I couldn't stand to see my team creamed once again. Little did I know . . . .) we scored passes to an event at UCLA: "Marvel Then and Now," an onstage conversation between filmmaker/comics writer Kevin Smith, Marvel legend Stan Lee, and current Marvel editor-in-chief Joe Quesada, with cameos from BET head/comics writer Reggie Hudlen and X-Men movie producer Tom DeSanto. Smith was as scatological as always ("Only a bunch of f***in' comics nerds," he greeted us, "would come see this on the night of the biggest f***in' game of the year"); Stan was energetic, if a bit confused (unable to see in the spotlights, he would face Smith when Quesada was talking, and vice versa); and Quesada unfortunately found that his verbal talents could not match the others.

On Sunday, we drove up to Santa Maria to attend a holiday party held by friends. We stayed at the ravishingly beautiful Historic Santa Maria Inn. Unfortunately, the Inn's service was not the equivalent of its looks. We were awakened at around 1 a.m. by the sound of a key in the lock, followed by a loud pounding on the door. It turned out that was a security guard; according to the front desk, the staff had somehow listed the room they rented us as "empty." We woke up quite bleary-eyed that morning for our drive back to LA.

Dave Cockrum, R.I.P

A perusal of the Web this evening brought the sad news that comic book creator Dave Cockrum passed away in his sleep this morning.

Cockrum was born in Pendleton, Oregon, not far from my hometown of Walla Walla, Washington. Cockrum first came to fans' attention in the early seventies, when he drew the teen superhero team comic LEGION OF SUPERHEROES. In the process, he designed new costumes and looks for many of the characters; and some of those costumes can be seen on the Sat-Am animated LEGION series on the CW these days. But his biggest claim to fame -- and the one that eventually made several folks in both New York and Hollywood much richer -- was co-creating THE NEW X-MEN with writer Len Wein and editor Roy Thomas, just over 30 years ago. Cockrum created the visuals for such characters as Storm, Nightcrawler, Colossus, and Phoenix. He drew the series from 1975 to 1977 (collaborating with writer Chris Claremont after Wein left); and then, after fan-favorite penciller John Byrne left, did a second stint from 1981-1983. His innovative, exciting, and fun style will be missed.

Fictional Funds

Forbes magazine has promulgated its annual list of the top 15 richest fictional characters. Number one is that paternal embodiment of the military-industrial complex, Daddy Warbucks. Other top folks include Mr. Burns from the Simpsons (#2), Uncle Scrooge McDuck (#3), real estate magnate and SEC nemesis Mr. Monopoly (#6), comic book tycoons Bruce Wayne (#7) and Tony Stark (#8), and new member Prince Abakaliki of Nigeria, familiar to all recipients of e-mail spam (#9). Lucius Malfoy, Harry Potter's foe, has advanced to #12 as increasing gold prices have benefitted his galleon holdings.

The Comic Book Angle on Jack Palance

Although yesterday's LA Times carried a fine obituary for Jack Palance, it did not mention Mr. Palance's importance to comic books of the 1970's. Specifically, two prominent comic book villains were visually modeled on Mr. Palance.

I was aware that Palance's portrayal of Dracula in a TV movie inspired artist Gene Colan's portrayal of the vampire in the long-running comic book "Tomb of Dracula." But Jack Kirby scholar Mark Evanier's blog yesterday revealed that comics great Jack Kirby based the visage of the New Gods baddie, Darkseid, on Palance's face.

Satan Speaks Like the Sub-Mariner

Marvel's "Essential" series is a terrific set of phone-book-sized paperback collections of various series, reprinted in black and white on cheap paper, with the result that a 500 plus page reprint goes for $16.99. One of the most recent volumes features the 1970's adventures of the Satan siblings: Daimon Hellstrom, Son of Satan, and his sis Satana. Yes, Satan was a Marvel Comics character. (In the 80's, the Reagan era, Marvel got cold feet and announced that this guy was a demon "posing" as Satan; but in these comics he's portrayed as the one and only, Prince of Lies, Morning Star, Nick Scratch, Mephistopheles, etc.) The back story goes that back in the fifties a woman fell for a handsome guy, albeit with pointed ears and arched eyebrows (no, not Leonard Nimoy), married him, and bore him a son and a daughter. Only later did she learn that she was -- dum dum dum -- The Bride of Satan! The site of her hub in all his infernalness drove her instantly insane. Meanwhile, Satan split with the little girl, and the son grew up and studied to be a priest. He eventually discovered his mother's diary and found out he was -- dum dum dum -- The Son of Satan! As with many children of divorces, he had severe father issues, and vowed to oppose Ol' Scratch. This being the mid-seventies, he took up the profession of exorcism, for which he'd wear a "ceremonial garb" of tight pants and a cloak. No shirt. (What an incentive to keep fit. Don't want that Satanic Six-Pack to sag.)

When Satan appeared in the comic, Marvel didn't exactly get subtle. He manifested either as a muscular sillhouette covered with flame lines, a la the Human Torch, or as a muscular bald guy with a bald head and horns. Oh, and he wore a Speedo made of flames. (Sounds like an oath -- "Satan's Flaming Speedo!" Or a comic book title -- "The Savage Speedo of Satan!")

What was most amusing to me was that Marvel's version of Satan tended to talk like another one of its arrogant monarch characters -- Prince Namor, the Sub-Mariner. Thus, Satan has lines like, "No more do you face sniveling demons -- you face SATAN, THE MASTER, PRINCE OF HELL, LORD OF DARKNESS -- you face your DOOM!"

SOS had a long run in Marvel Spotlight, and then was given his own series, which lasted only eight issues. He did better than his sis Satana (who couldn't quite go around bare-chested, but compensated by wearing a leotard with front cut-outs, in the manner that J-Lo would make famous 30 years later), who appeared in a few scattered stories in various places, did bad stuff, developed daddy issues too, and died heroically.

I suspect part of the problem with these characters' long-term prospects was the lack of merchandising opportunity -- not much market for Hellmobiles, or Son of Satan Underoos. (Though I believe Daimon did have a Slurpee cup to himself.) The stories did, however, feature some nice artwork by veterans like Gene Colan, John Romita and Sal Buscema; and stories by such then up and coming writers as Chris Claremont, Gerry Conway, and Steve Gerber.

A Divine MADness

Mark Evanier reports on the Comics Arts Professional Society awards given to two cartoonists whose work will be familiar to anyone who grew up in the sixties through the eighties, Jack Davis and Sergio Aragones. Davis drew the first story in the first issue of MAD magazine; and his work has appeared in advertisements, movie posters, book illustrations, and everywhere a funny illustration would seem appropriate. Aragones, the world's fastest cartoonist, began in MAD a year before I was born; and his work still appears in every issue. That's in addition to his animated cartoons, acting, comic books, etc.