Claiming it’s like “putting Daniel Craig on the cover of Dr. No,” Godzilla fans are none too pleased by the artist’s new Criterion Collection Godzilla packaging, with a monster that is arguably much more like, or exactly like, the 2002 design, rather than the 1954 original film on the disc. Facebook erupted with demands to “fix the error” or offer an apology, but Criterion stomped to the artist’s defense:

“Artist Bill Sienkiewicz used the original, ‘54 Godzilla as reference for his artwork, but all of the renderings are nevertheless, in the end, Bill’s personal vision of the creature, albeit on…e that is Toho approved. We can see why some viewers consider it to be more akin to the 2002 incarnation of Godzilla because the back plates seem more sharp-pointed and jagged than the curved tips of the ‘54 original, for example, or the tail tapers more to a point, but those plates don’t exactly mirror the ones from the 2002-3 monster either.

We pushed Bill to address Godzilla as a force of destruction, an elemental being, to step away from a rendering that would be purely literal and fetishistic in detail, and think he came up with a terrific interpretation. This is also why there is color in the packaging art. Although the movie is a beautifully-photographed B&W work, we kept leaning towards the elemental aspects of fire and water and wanted the color palette to evoke that.”

I think it’s more interesting that it doesn’t really look much like what comics fans expect of Sienkiewicz’ work, and that he was also hired to provide black-and-white illustrations in the BluRay booklet, which is also kind of an odd use of his talents.

It’s becoming clearer week by week that DC’s New 52 has a lot of problems, and John Rozum’s quitting as writer (scripter?) of Static Shock wasn’t very newsworthy until he started posting on Facebook and his blog about it, because the book wasn’t very good from the start and wasn’t selling well. Failing to turn a C-list superhero into anything more is no crime, and while one would think Rozum’s reputation would survive coming shortly on the heels of his acclaimed (if also not-great-selling) Xombi revival, but I understand him wanting to set the record straight, especially as some folks were cursing him for seemingly killing the chances for Static and the rest of the Milestone characters to integrate successfully into the DC Universe. First, it ain’t his fault, and second, you can be sure that, since DC owns them, they will keep trying to get these characters into the DCU, just as they have with characters who are even tougher fits like The Spirit or Doc Savage. 

But that’s DC’s problem. What I appreciated in Rozum’s post was what a pro the guy was. And sure, maybe in the ’40s or even ’70s or early ’80s, being a pro was synonymous with keeping one’s mouth shut about the company who hired you. But Rozum doesn’t say anything bad about DC. He’s merely giving his side of the story regarding an untenable working situation with one particular editor, Harvey Richards, and longtime workman artist, first-time plotter, Scott McDaniel. In the spirit of Rozum, I’ll practice some rare restraint here and not disparage either of them, and will instead just commend Rozum on his honesty and integrity and wish him much better success with future projects. He also points out that his acclaimed revival of the Milestone character, Xombi, with art by the great Frazer Irving, is due out from DC in February, so keep an eye out for that.

I’ve been writing and editing articles and posts about comics for about 14 years now, all told. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of any piece I’ve been involved with than today’s Flashmob Fridays piece on Harvey Pekar’s new and final graphic novel, Cleveland.

Excellent writing abounds from Christopher Allen, Roger Green, Scott Cederlund, and Johanna Draper Carlson. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed bringing it to you. Go read Flashmob Fridays on Harvey Pekar’s Cleveland.

— Alan David Doane

Writer - Brandon Graham

Artist - Simon Roy

Publisher - Image Comics/Extreme. $3.99

I’m old enough to remember the two months that Rob Liefeld’s Prophet was relevant. Without doing any research (both laziness and in support of not supporting SOPA/PIPA), I think it was about issue #7 or 8, when the original creative team abandoned the book to a flash-in-the-pan artist, Stephen Platt, who had some major flaws but had an appealing style that was kind of a more compact Todd McFarlane. I went along with the crowd and got the book without having to pay much more than cover price, liked the art but not the story, and then waited for the next issue, which I think took over a month to arrive, and when it did, I don’t think Platt did all the work. And before too long, he was gone on to other things, and really has had very little comics work since. The series apparently made it to issue #20, but not many people really cared by that time (though in today’s numbers, it probably would be a big hit).

Say what you want about Liefeld, but he’s not an idiot, and he’s always been one to pay others to pump some life into his failing, failed or forgotten creations, be it Alan Moore, Mark Millar, Kurt Busiek, and so on. This time it’s Brandon (King City) Graham, writing, joined by Simon (Jan’s Atomic Heart) Roy on art. 

Is the book any good? Yes, and the good news is that one need not have any prior knowledge of time-lost super soldier John Prophet, and it probably helps if you don’t. Numbering aside, this is written like a first issue, and I give Liefeld and editor Eric Stephenson credit for letting Graham do what he wants here, which is to thrust Prophet into a weird world of multi-jawed monsters to kill and consume and other natives who want to kill, fuck, parley or perform surgery on him. It’s a dense issue, and Roy and colorist John Ballermann are up to the task of creating this strange, savage world. 

I’ve already seen folks calling the book brilliant, but I think we may want to pump the brakes a bit there. Graham does have a unique vision and bless him for wanting to cram a lot into the issue, but he does overload the reader a bit with all the alien names, and with an omniscient narration that actually feels kind of lazy to me. I’d prefer to find more of this out through dialogue between Prophet and the creatures he meets, as well as having Prophet make observations in his own voice, so we can get to know him better. 

Reading this issue, as well as seeing the news that Joe Casey and Nathan Fox are the new creative team on other Image series, Haunt, makes me a little bummed that talented creators like these are still being convinced to expend their energies trying to prop up or revived crappy comics somebody else owns, but hey, it’s their call to make. If someone’s going to do work-for-hire, as a consumer I still want them to put their best effort into it, and although this first issue has some flaws, it’s clear Graham and Roy are invested in the work and there’s some good potential here.

—Christopher Allen

It was morbid curiosity that led me to pick up Peanuts #1 yesterday. Published by the Kaboom kids comics imprint of Boom Studios, the book features what is apparently artwork by Charles Schulz on the cover (it has his signature, anyway), new material by people you’ve never heard of, and a sprinkling of classic Schulz Sunday strips marred by modern colouring techniques.

The new comics blow it on a number of levels, the worst of which is that there’s just no central, guiding philosophy subtly holding it all together, as there was in every single strip Schulz created in the 50 years he wrote and drew Peanuts. The artists capture Schulz’s style here or there, in this panel or that, but it feels random and wrong, as do character motivations and actions. The varying panel shapes also seem out of sync with what we think of as Peanuts. A half-century of consistency and clean design won’t be shoved aside by the sub-par attempts to do something new, here.

Speaking of wrong, the “How to Draw Charlie Brown” feature — the idea of which is kicky and fun — is made of wrong. Told from Lucy’s perspective, it’s mean and negative to a degree that shows a complete inability to appreciate — never mind emulate — Schulz’s judgment and creative discipline. He always knew exactly how much was enough, and where the line was, and this petty, shitty approach doesn’t know either.

We all know Lucy thinks Charlie Brown is fat and stupid. We don’t need her telling us that relentlessly for page after page, going on about his sausage fingers and stupid, round head. This one feature would keep me from sharing the book with a child, and sent me to the credits to look for any evidence that Schulz’s widow or estate had a hand in this. There’s no indication that they were consulted or had any approval, and I have to guess that they did not, and that therefore the book should be avoided not only for reasons of quality, but out of respect for the memory and wishes of Charles M. Schulz.

As I mentioned, there’s a few pages of badly coloured classic Schulz Sunday strips thrown in, in-between the lousy new material. It fails to distract from the deficiencies in the new work, although that surely was the intention. It’s nice that Kaboom wants to introduce new readers to the great life’s work of Charles Schulz. They could do far better than they’ve done in Peanuts #1. They could, for instance, recommend a volume of The Complete Peanuts from Fantagraphics Books. They’ve been doing Peanuts right for years, and it’s a shame that Kaboom doesn’t seem to have absorbed a whit of inspiration from the classy, engaging volumes Fantagraphics issues twice a year. I understand the wish to bring Peanuts more into the modern era. That is to say, I understand that this is what they were trying to do. They have failed. This is a book that fails to honour the memory of one of the greatest cartoonists of all time, that fails to provide quality comics for kids, and that is best avoided by readers old and new.

— Alan David Doane

I recently found myself agreeing — as I often do — with Tony Isabella on the issue of the Best American Comics series of annual anthologies. Tony’s recent blog post took the series and editors Jessica Abel and Matt Madden to task for not being truly representative of comics in North America. While I was initially excited about the series, year after year I’ve been more disappointed and felt more distant from it, and Tony nicely summed up why:
  

I reject utterly the premise and substance of “The Rare Case Against Creator-Owned Comics,” posted on the Newsarama blog. If anything, Alan Moore’s veto of a reprinting of the 1963 project is a good argument for creator-owned comics. Moore’s writing was the prime appeal of 1963, and speaking as someone who bought it new on the stands, and not disregarding the wonderful artwork by Steve Bissette, Dave Gibbons and Rick Veitch, I can tell you I bought it primarily — if not solely, because of the writing of Alan Moore, and the clever way in which he invoked the tone of Silver Age Marvel Comics. Could the artists have done it without Moore? Not with the same level of quality and creative ingenuity. Certainly not without the enormous number of copies sold. Could Moore have done it without the particular artists who illustrated his ideas? Of course he could have.  

Which isn’t to say I don’t sympathize with the artists. I do, completely. But I place more importance on Moore’s right to say “no,” and I totally sympathize with Moore’s desire to distance himself from the larger segment of the comics industry. Comics as a whole — readers and publishers — have treated him with contempt and ethical shenanigans for nearly as long as he’s been writing them. I can’t blame him at all for wanting to move on. I wish the 1963 partners could have reached an accord and would have loved to see the 1963 Annual back in the days when it was supposed to be published, but those days are over, and near so far as I can tell, as disappointing as it might be to the other creators, Moore is well within his rights to say “no.” If only his rights and desires had been respected a little more often over the last 30 years or so, he might be a little more magnanimous now in what he is willing to cooperate with, or at least tolerate.

Alan Moore has, in my over thirty years of reading his writing, earned my respect, my admiration, and my trust. I know he has higher-than-average expectations and standards when it comes to friendship and relationships, and I know there are good and decent people who have, for reasons I am not privileged to know, somehow found themselves fallen out of Moore’s good graces. I’m sure that’s unpleasant, even painful.

But Moore, as an individual and as a comics creator, has more than earned the right to associate with, both personally and professionally, only those he chooses to associate with. He should not be forced into business contracts or personal relationships he does not wish to be a part of, and we should respect that. He’s earned the right to work on the projects he chooses to do, and not a goddamned thing more. Frankly, he’s earned the right to be left in peace. Comics has taken enough from the man. He’s given enough of himself. Steve Bissette, as a former creative partner, has the right to say what he wishes about 1963, as does anyone else who was involved in the project. Everyone else is just blowing so much hot air.

— Alan David Doane 

Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips stretch their considerable creative muscles to make Fatale #1 an electric and delicious start to their newest project together.

I’ve been a fan of this creative team since they first came to my attention on Sleeper, followed them singly and together on pretty much every other title they’ve worked on, and cite their ongoing Marvel/Icon book Criminal as my current favourite ongoing title. “I like it so much I started a blog,” I’m tempted to say.

None of this is news if you’ve been reading me for any length of time at all, so I won’t bore you with further explication of the esteem in which I hold Brubaker and Phillips’s joint comic work; just take it as a given that if they are working together, you’re going to be reading comics in the finest tradition in terms of style and substance. Single issues that read well all by themselves no matter where you are in the storyline, complex characters that surprise and delight; lush, convincing images that invite you in to the world being created before your eyes.

Fatale, like Sleeper and Criminal (oh, and Incognito, too, yes) does all that, and does it all quite well. But it also goes places Entrancin’ Ed and Sure-Fingered Sean never have before; the duo set their new book in a dark world of mystery and horror inspired by the writings of H.P. Lovecraft (another of my favourite writers). This isn’t the icy, brutal sexual terror Alan Moore delivered in his excellent Lovecraft homage Neonomicon, however; Brubaker and Phillips craft a more baroque feel for this new world we’re discovering, all dark corners and unknown terrors that invite exploration. The mood is set from the very start, as a dour group of people gather in the rain for a funeral. Strangers meet, words are exchanged, and questions quickly arise. And just like that, we’re immersed in a new world of darkness and wonder.

The first-person narration of main character Nicholas Lash feels comfortable and intimate, but the strange things that begin to happen to him unfold so quickly that you’re as disoriented as he is by the way the world turns out from under him. As he immerses himself in a story-within-the-story in the form of a previously unknown manuscript brought to him by a beautiful and mysterious woman who may be much more than she suggests. The scenes depicted from the manuscript really give Phillips a chance to show what he can deliver, as we get a luminously noir scene-setting city street depiction so detailed and visually stunning that it’s also called-out for the issue’s back cover illustration. We see truly creepy thugs reminiscent of The Strangers in Dark City or The Gentlemen in the “Hush” episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, but by way of Herge’s Thomson and Thompson. Visually witty but still filled with horror and dread. 



How does the story Lash reads relate to the death of his godfather? Who, really, is the beautiful and intriguing Jo? Why does the gore and spatter emitted by a chest-wounded thug seem…wrong, somehow? Lots of questions, and you’ll want to read further and get the answers. Brubaker’s best comics writing by now has the same spare confidence and bravado of a master musician, and Phillips brings a level of detail and verisimilitude to this story that is virtually unknown in regular monthly comics these days.

Fatale #1 delivers value for the dollar, too; in addition to a longer-than-average story (24 pages instead of the usual 22 or more recent usual 20 in some titles), Brubaker writes an introductory text page, something that is always welcome, especially in a first issue, as it provides context and communication with the reader that is always off-putting when absent. Additionally, the always-excellent Jess Nevins has been tasked with writing an essay explaining Lovecraft and his works, a piece accompanied by a truly stunning and evocative Sean Phillips illustration of Lovecraft and his greatest, most fearsome creation. 

Fatale #1 is exactly the sort of comic readers need; an engrossing story, superbly illustrated, sharply written and with enough substance and ancillary material to justify the cover price. Any publisher wondering how to do it right should explore every aspect of this issue. Any reader wondering why comics don’t satisfy them anymore should compare Fatale #1 to any other book on the stands, because it blows them all away.

— Alan David Doane 

Addendum: Ed Brubaker responded to this review on Twitter, saying “You got one detail wrong, but you’re sort of meant to. The ’50s part of the story is not the manuscript he reads.” 

As one of the signees of my buddy Alan David Doane’s petition asking DC Comics to come to an accord with the creators of Watchmen or, failing that, scuttle plans for Watchmen prequels/sequels/spinoffs, I wrestled with the rationale of it for a little bit. I’m probably as temperamental as Alan, but not so anti-corporate, and by and large I come down on the side of the law. And as it seems to be legal for DC to go forth with exploiting what appears to be their property, as rights never reverted back to Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons, I was basically okay with their legal right to do so, though not interested in the results.

But I have come to realize a couple things. First, laws obviously change. What was accepted practice fifty or thirty or even ten years ago can be disputed and reversed now. But more importantly, this is an ethical issue. Although Alan’s artwork below is over-the-top, the petition itself is evenhanded. No one is calling for Occupy DC or a boycott or anything like that. It basically just asks DC to do the right thing. Obviously, not everyone has the same ethics and values, and DC is made up of many people of differing ethics and values who have to balance them with the need to make money. To me, and I have to point out I had no involvement in the creation of this petition and am only stating my own desires for the outcome, it’s not so much about if or how DC reacts to it as that it hopefully starts some sort of dialogue, plants a seed in people’s minds about the importance of the artist and how one should always make the attempt to respect the author’s wishes. It’s not unheard of but rare in the world of film (2010, the shot-for-shot remake of Psycho) for filmmakers to try to follow another filmmaker’s visionary work, but comics publishers seem to have little regard for most creators, nor shame in endlessly regurgitating old ideas. As with the New 52, it’s pretty transparent that spinning off Watchmen with different creators is shortsighted and gimmicky and not likely to produce anything approaching the longevity and merit of the original work, but admittedly, that’s not really the point here. A kickass, mind-expanding Owlman story-for-the-ages, or a turd on the scale of The L.A.W., either result is still a kick in the teeth to Messrs. Moore & Gibbons and their singular work. 

I just think it’s worth starting the discussion, both intellectually and spiritually. What benefit to one’s soul is there in championing those who reap their rewards based on someone else’s hard work and mental agility, who exploit legal loopholes that hurt others? I’m no saint and make plenty of my own questionable choices, but I don’t take pride in them, nor am I going to rally to the defense of others who do these things at the expense of others. Yes, there are more important things in the world and Change.org is involved with those things, too, but that doesn’t make it unimportant. Do you want to stand up, even in this mild way, for the Artist, or just keep lining up for more and more of the same crap? Even at one’s most selfish, it’s just common sense that the company who does right by its people is going to produce better work, more often. 

—Christopher Allen