Comic Book Making: Lettering & Art working together

With relatively few exceptions, the creation of a comic book is a collaborative effort, especially when discussing work from the larger publishers, Marvel and DC.  Much of their output consists of color comics, and much of it is published on a monthly basis.  For a standard 20-24 page comic, that's a lot of work to get done in a short amount of time.  Which is why a division of labor was formed:  writing, penciling, inking, coloring, lettering.  Parsing out these various aspects of a comic to different specialists allowed the schedules to remain intact, for the most part.  And, though all parts of the comic need to come together in order for it to work, there is an obvious hierarchy, with writing and art at the top and, more so now than ever, the writers even getting higher billing than the artists. 

Anyway, preamble aside, I've been reading some older comics recently and came across examples of "unorthodox" panel layouts in two different issues -- one that didn't work and one that did.  The former was from the Wally West era Flash series, issue #201, and the latter was in Saga of the Swamp Thing annual #2. 

  

Now, comparing anyone's work to that of Alan Moore and his collaborators is almost always a losing proposition and terribly unfair.  But if you want to learn how to do things well, you need to learn from the best, so let's get on with it.  

First, let's look at the page that didn't work.  The issue was published in 2003, written by Geoff Johns, drawn by Alberto Dose, with lettering from Kurt Hathaway.  

An important thing to remember, when dealing with a page layout that does not adhere to any recognizable grid (such as a 2 x 2 panel grid like Kirby would utilize or a 3 x 3 panel grid that epitomized Ditko's Spider-Man and Moore & Gibbons's Watchmen) is that there need to be some way for the reader's eye to smoothly follow the storytelling -- because our natural progression, in western comic and reading in general, is to go left to right, top to bottom; anything outside that norm will necessitate hard work on the part of the creators, to get it right.  That doesn't happen in the above page. 

Looking at that page from the Flash, we start in the upper left corner, obviously, as Wally steps from his car, which is hanging in midair (due to Wally's sped up perceptions as he goes into superspeed mode).  This follows to the tall rectangular panel just to the right, overlapping with the initial panel.  Now, this middle panel at the top also heavily overlaps with the larger panel in the upper right.  Our eyes naturally move in that direction, with nothing to hinder our reading progress . . . BUT this would be wrong.  That "third" panel has Wally already on the ground, looking into the vehicle beneath his own.  We only discover is it the wrong order, though, when we shift our eyes back to the left and find a panel that, in time, falls between that second panel and that large one in the upper right.  The caption box:  "My car's floating in midair." also indicates this panel comes before the one where he sees the driver in the neighboring car.   Nothing -- in the art or the lettering (since that caption box appeared not to be attached to that second panel) -- showed readers they needed to move downward rather than to the right.  So, in reading it out of order first, followed by a need to go back and re-read it correctly, the creators have taken the audience out of the story and any emotional response they may have been attempting to spur in the readership is lost. 

Now, let's look at a less hectic but still unorthodox panel layout in the Swamp Thing annual.   This comic was published in 1985, written by Alan Moore, with art from Stephen Bissette & John Totleben, and lettering by John Costanza. 

In this issue, and all the issues to date that I've re-read, the lettering and art come together in a near perfect harmony to bring these stories to life in a way that few comics, even today, are able to achieve.  There's a reason these comics are stone cold classics, part of that's the writing, part of that is the art, including coloring from Tatjana Wood, and part of that is the lettering. 

On this page, we start, as we always do, in the upper left corner.  Deadman is hovering above Swamp Thing as they talk.  This panel leads into the tall panel at the right, which overlaps the first and third.  Of course, our eye naturally moves this way, but just to emphasize the reading of this page, Deadman's hand leaks into that second panel.  There, we have a double-image, wherein we see Deadman and Swampy walking through the nether-realm as a ghost-image of Deadman's face looms above them, speaking.  His word balloons wrap through the image of the two characters, leading directly to the third panel, where Swamp Thing's speech balloons lead directly off from Deadman's in panel two.  Note that, in these first three panels, not only have the word balloons directed our eyes through the reading order of these panels, but the figures also snake through in the direction we should be reading.  Deadman's response in this panel falls outside that "arrow" but, again, we have the art to lead us into the next panel, which is the tall, rectangular one at the lower left.  Not only does Deadman's arm once again point us to the next panel to be read, but the slight overlap of that panel into the third one also pulls us toward it.  And then, once again, we have the characters turned around, facing toward the right, which leads us into the final panel. 

Certainly, this page wasn't as complex as the Flash panel, but it adhered to some fairly "unspoken rules" about comic art, which is to have the images in the panels leading readers in the correct reading order, and adding to this clarity of expression is the lettering from Costanza, who masterfully weaves the word balloons through this page, and other similarly expressive pages, to keep the audience engaged with the story and not having to pause and think about which panel they need to go to next. 

And if you're looking for another example of masterful art and lettering that provides a clarify of expression in an unorthodox panel layout, check out my earlier post on Sam Kieth's Aliens work, here.  It's pretty interesting (the page layout if not the explanation from me), in my opinion.

2014 – a Reckoning … of comic collections read

This year I decided to start tracking my reading a bit more closely.  I wanted to be able to look at trends in my reading, and possibly identify deficiencies in my habits that I could work on.  For the year, I read 100 collections-slash-graphic novels.  Not a bad number.  But what did I read?

I finally got my hands on Bendis’s Alias, which was a great series.  It tapered off a bit at the end, but still, some really great writing, and I appreciated Andreyko’s art, which helped make this book stand out even more.  This led to me re-reading Bendis’s Daredevil run with Alex Maleev.  Not as great as I remember, from my first reading, but still a strong series of issues, made all the more impressive by the fact that, with rare instances and one fill-in storyline that I can remember, this creative team was on the book for a serious run.  Now I’m halfway through the Brubaker/Lark run, and though I’m not enjoying it as much, it’s still a solid read. 

I also dipped into the Geoff Johns Green Lantern mythos this year - and wrote about it here, here, and here.  I stopped after the Sinestro Corps War, relatively underwhelmed.  There was some nice art (when it was Ethan Van Sciver), and the stories were well done, but I think the facts that Hal Jordan is now a firm fixture in the DCU and that I knew some of the twists and turns coming is what killed it for me.  I may return to see how things lead up to Blackest Night, one of my favorite Flash stories of recent years, but probably not.

I also finished up Bakuman this year, reading the last 11 volumes over the entire course of 2014.  Great stuff.  As long as you can buy into the distinct tropes of manga, then you should enjoy this.  Great drama, great characters, some really funs scenarios, and beautiful art, all revolving around two school friends who decide they want to become the biggest manga creators on Weekly Shonen Jump.  The way the creators manage to imbue their stories with drama and tension, when it revolves around creating comics, is impressive.  Worth checking out. 

I also read the full Locke & Key this year, by Joe Hill & Gabriel Rodriguez.  One of the best comic stories in years.  Amazing.  If you haven’t read this series yet, and you call yourself a comic fan, get on it.  You will not regret it. 

Some other standouts from the past year also include:

• Ant Colony by Michael DeForge – one of the most distinct and enjoyable artists currently working in comics
• Family Ties by Eric Hobbs & Noel Tuazon – one of my favorite artists, who does not have enough work out there, but what Tuazon does have is all stellar
• Bumperhead by Gilbert Hernandez – on my Rushmore of comic artists.
• Nemo: Roses of Berlin by Alan Moore & Kevin O’Neill – Alan Moore, writing god, ‘nuff said.
• The Red Diary by Steven Seagle & Teddy Kristiansen – an incredible creative team with yet another phenomenal book.  Check out anything from them.
• NOAH by Darren Aronofsky & Niko Henrichon – gorgeous art, great story, and not what you expect.  Get it.
• Hip Hop Family Tree v.1 by Ed Piskor – check this out, a history of hip hop told through comics by a guy who is a signature talent.

And there were a lot more.  Going into 2015, I’m going to read through all of Gotham Central, finally, and I also plan on doing a near-complete Frank Miller re-read – I don’t know if I can take Holy Terror! but I am excited to re-read DK2 and possibly writing about it.  And whatever other great titles come across my various social feeds.  If you’ve got something to recommend, let me know.  And thanks.

-chris

Sinestro Corps War – afterthought (the Kill Order)

One of the big things to come out of the Sinestro Corps War storyline was the fact that, now, Green Lanterns were able to use deadly force, whereas before their rings would not allow such extreme measures.  In fact, this was revealed as the ultimate goal of Sinestro throughout this attack by his new yellow lantern corps – echoes of the motivation behind the archnemesis of the Flash, the other major book for which Geoff Johns was/is known.  Though I am certain there are many GL fans, and DC executives, who would disagree, this is yet another misstep on the part of the creators that only diminishes the Green Lantern mythos, in my mind. 

Following in the modern tradition of attempts to make contemporary superheroes edgier and more relevant by making them more violent, it, surprisingly, makes them more juvenile, now able to act upon their baser instincts and kill rather than seeking a better way.  Sure, Geoff Johns, through John Stewart’s character, tries to legitimize it at the end when Stewart says, “It’s no different from any of the cops who protect our streets.”  That is true, but this assumes a restraint in the bearer of such a deadly weapon, a restraint that can be argued is missing in the storytelling of “mainstream” creators and editors. 

That’s a broad-brush statement, and it could just be my cynicism rearing its ugly head, but I stand by it, regardless.

Mainly, I stand by it because of what was evident in this storyline.  Once the Green Lanterns were afforded the ability to use deadly force, they were all too happy to utilize it.  Yes, they were meeting “an eye for an eye,” but this reduction to the least common denominator is lazy storytelling and saps the Lanterns of their heroic ideal (certainly, one can be a hero and kill, but it is a fine line to tread, demanding nuance and restraint that was lost on this narrative, compounded by the decades of history that follows comic book heroes of this type).  It takes far more effort to have the hero overcome a sadistic “bad guy” such as Sinestro was portrayed in this without being able to just kill, but the result would have been far more satisfying than the slugfest that carried over these many issues. 

Lastly (and I apologize for the rather messy post, but I’m writing “off the cuff,” and trying to follow the many jumps my mind is making while these thoughts fester and boil up there), there was one other point where Johns tried to show that this new ability to use deadly force wasn’t merely a carte blanche edict that would allow for rampant deaths of the Lanterns’ enemies – though, of course, we all know that death in comic books means nothing.  Kilowog, while battling Arkillo (I believe), states that this new kill order is only to be used as a last measure (let’s disregard that the kill order came with no training/counsel/rules).  The big problem here:  Johns is telling and not showing.  This response comes after readers have witnessed pages and pages and pages of dead bodies accompanied by the colored edicts that “Sinestro #__” or “Green Lantern #__” have died and a replacement must be found.  The trail of bodies is vast, and yet, Kilowog would have us believe that the kill order is merely a last resort.  The imagery puts a lie to that statement.  This is compounded when Kilowog and Arkillo have their final battle.  Arkillo lay lifeless on the page (to be fair, the static imagery of the comic page does not allow for the subtlety of film where we would be able to see that a body is not dead more easily than in a comic) and Kilowog is asked of he is dead.  Kilowog says he is not but that his rings won’t harm any more Lanterns.  Now, yes, Kilowog tells readers Arkillo isn’t dead.  But the pile of bodies the audience has witnessed over the previous issues’ worth of story, coupled with the fact that a dead body and unconscious body look the same on the printed page, causes a tension in our brains that makes it difficult to take what Kilowog is saying, at face value.  If we’d seen some restraint, some attempt at overcoming the threat without taking the easy way out, maybe it would be easy to accept Arkillo’s apparent survival.  But, as it is, Geoff Johns  & co. have set up a status quo that makes it far easier to believe he is dead, like so many other Yellow Lanterns, than to take that statement as “fact.” 

-chris 

Green Lantern - Sinestro Corps War

First, let me get out in front of this one.  I did not enjoy this story, whatsoever.  The only saving grace was Jerry Ordway’s inks over Jamal Igle’s pencils.  Beautiful.  Other than that, this was a bad comic.  In my opinion.

The caveats: 

-  This story is seven years old (in comic book terms that can be a lifetime), and I was already aware of many of the revelations in this narrative. 

-  There’s a good chance this may have read better in monthly installments.  There’s a magic that can occur with comic narratives, those done well, when the readers has weeks to stew and ponder over what they just read.  Similar, in a way, to serialized television – the format can dictate creative choices that will enhance the experience for the audience. 

Given these above points, it is possible that the proclamations of this storyline’s greatness were not overstated, at the time.  [though, I’m more inclined to believe it was more hyperbole than genuinely good storytelling]  Geoff Johns & co. were certainly shaking up the status quo without treading on the history of the Green Lanterns, and they even managed to weave many facets of that history, and DC history in general, into this new age for the corps. 

I remember how crazy the response to the Anti-Monitor’s return seemed to be on the internet and within the comic-reading community, but within the context of this narrative – standing alone as it does now in collected form – that felt so lackluster.  Yes, it’s the Anti-Monitor, the big bad we remember from the Crisis – THE CRISIS, not the echoes that followed years later – but he feels so insignificant in the way he’s utilized within this story.  He just stands around, for the most part, looking tall.  It never felt, to me, like he was spurring this great cosmic war with the Guardians and their corps. 

But, again, this could be the result of my being spoiled on his return.  Which isn’t an absolution of the creators and the story.  Now this may be unfair, but let’s look at a different example of a comic story that drastically changed the status quo for the main characters – Swamp Thing #21, by Alan Moore, Stephen Bissette, & John Totleben.  This is where Moore made his stamp on the character, “revealing” that the Swamp Thing wasn’t Alec Holland transformed into a muck monster, but actually the consciousness of Holland that had animated the muck to form a body with which he could relate.  The impetus for the character to this point had been his desire to find a way to change back to a human.  That was thrown out with this second issue of Moore’s run, and the character would never be the same. 

Now, in both of these stories, the status quo is shaken up (the introduction of a second lantern corps, the rewriting of GL law to allow deadly force, the reintroduction of the Anti-Monitor vs. a wholly new take on a character and its motivation), and I have read each of these stories after a point where I knew of the “big change(s)” within the mythos.  With Sinestro Corps War, though there are specific plot points toward which Johns, et al. are moving, it mainly feels like they’re just spinning their wheels for the most part, as little really occurs other than a lot of fighting between Green and Yellow Lanterns, over the course of ten-plus chapters.  And even those main plot points feel diminished somehow.

(it could be the fact that, due to the frantic nature of many “mainstream/action” comics today, the characters are never afforded a chance to stop or slow down.  And without those quiet moments of reflection, there is no ebb and flow to the action or the narrative throughline, losing the core of what can make for a good story) 

It’s one long fight scene, basically, through multiple issues of this story, and any character moments or nuance gets lost in the clutter. 

Then there’s Swamp Thing #21.  Moore imbues his story with heart.  It’s a story of horrible sadness – the realization that the thing you wanted so much to return to is now beyond your grasp and was, in fact, never possible.   We have all experienced the desire to get back what we once had, whether an old girlfriend or boyfriend, our childhood innocence, something material or spiritual; it’s something to which we can relate, quite easily.  It is this core that makes this tale so affecting and so effective.  Despite this character being covered in weeds and tubers and muck and moss, readers understand him, feel empathy for him, and are moved by this story, told in a single comic.  No small feat, that. 

It seems like, as is often the case, the lessons gleaned from previous works held up as exemplary are the wrong ones.  It feels, in Sinestro Corps War, like the main point of the story was to move toward these big “reveals.”  Anti-Monitor.  Sinestro Corps.  Green Lanterns being allowed to use deadly force.  These facets seem to be the driving force behind the narrative, and one could argue that the big “reveal” that the Swamp Thing is not Alec Holland but a husk of plant material pretending to be Holland was the main impetus of issue #21 of Swamp Thing.  And though that might be what many people remember, that is not what has made that issue, and that run by Moore and his artistic collaborators, the high water mark to which people return for multiple readings.  Moore did not rely on the twist ending to hold that story together.  He filled it with emotion and humanity and terror – so ably abetted by Bissette and Totleben, without whom I don’t think this story could have worked as well – and hinged his story onto some very true feelings that resonate with readers. 

Swamp Thing #21 has a cool twist at the end, but it stands up as a well-told story because the twist wasn’t the prime motivator for the authors.  Sinestro Corps War has multiple cool twists, one could argue, but once you wash those away, you’re left with a lifeless husk of a narrative, similar to what was left of the Anti-Monitor the last time anyone had seen him prior to this storyline.

-chris

Geoff Johns's Green Lantern

Since the Challenge of the Super Friends cartoon from the 70s, I have been a fan of the Flash and Green Lantern.  I can't say what it was about them:

• maybe the bright colors of Flash's costume had something to do with it
• and the camaraderie these two had would have spread my affection to GL
• possibly it was a desire to be a contrarian, go against the easy choice of Superman & Batman as favorites
• regardless, I was a fan, and that continues to this day (though I haven't read a new Flash or GL comic in a long time)

So, although I'd missed much of the Parallax stuff and what came after, when Geoff Johns set about bringing Hal Jordan back into the DC universe proper, with Green Lantern: Rebirth in 2004, I was at the comic shop to pick it up.  And I was very happy with what I found.  I remember thinking that Ethan Van Sciver, the penciller, seemed to have a bit of George Perez in him, and the story was exciting and engaging.  

But I never picked up with the regular series, despite hearing great things from people online.  With Johns's monumental run finishing up late last year, I decided to go back and see what all the fuss was about and began getting the collected editions, of both Green Lantern and Green Lantern Corps, through the library.  And ... I don't get the clamor of praise surrounding the series, other than what I experienced, that sense of nostalgia and pleasure in seeing an "old friend."  

Not that it's a bad comic.  But maybe my tastes have changed too much.  It feels to me, in the beginning of the series, that Johns was trying to clean up the mess that was Parallax (that's obvious, I suppose) by bringing back many of the Green Lanterns Hal Jordan had presumably killed.  It feels to me like Johns was working to exonerate Jordan's actions through two narrative avenues - 1) hammering home the fact that Jordan was possessed by the Parallax entity and thus not responsible for the heinous acts he perpetrated and 2) revealing that these Lanterns we believed Jordan had killed were actually alive, which he seems to think negates the "murders" because without a dead body how can there be a murder?  

I have big problems with both of these arguments (and I should note, here, that I have not read any interviews with Johns and cannot say that this is, in fact, what he was going for.  And, having only read just up to right before the "Sinestro Corps War," I only have a third to a half of his overall narrative to go on.  But, as a reader, this is my interpretation, which is the whole point of writing and creating fiction, for others to read and interpret it as they will, according to their own backgrounds and biases)  Anyway, I digress.

My problem with the first point is similar to the problem I have - only having listened and read analysis of Avengers vs. X-Men last year - with Cyclops.  He, too, seems to have been given a pass for any crimes committed because he was possessed by the Phoenix force.  Where's the culpability (putting aside the morality plays that many people, including myself, feel comics do well and should, currently, be doing more of)?  He was possessed, so he gets a pass on murder?  That teaches readers that there are no consequences for one's actions - not only is that a poor lesson/theme for a story, but it's also wrong-headed and just plain lazy storytelling (this last point is the one that irks me most; if you paint yourself into a corner, gets out the larger box of paints to get yourself out of it, don't fall back onto a no-thought answer).  I suppose one could argue it's a reflection of our times - CEOs, large corporations, politicians, bank managers, et al. getting caught doing something corrupt, unethical, or criminal and getting rewarded with a handsome buy-out package or a new lobbying job that pays far more than their Senate job did - but I don't buy that.  Fiction, especially heroic fiction, should be better than that.  

The second issue, similar to the first, seems to try and absolve Hal Jordan of his sins by showing the audience that there should be no recrimination for his murder spree because - surprise! - they were never dead in the first place.  But, does the lack of physical consequences negate the spirit of the crime?  Hal Jordan ostensibly killed the Lanterns.  And yet, we should forgive him and focus on him as the prime Green Lantern because "no bodies."  Again, where is the culpability?  He performed a heinous act that he believed resulted in the deaths of his comrades (yeah, okay, he was possessed), but they're back so:  reset.  Nope.  Doesn't work for me.  Sorry.

I have also found, in recent years, that the luster of Van Sciver's art has been worn to a dull haze for me.  His figures are too stiff, his panels too cluttered (despite possibly having less within them than many a Perez panel).  Van Sciver doesn't appear to have the cartooning that I admire in similarly "photorealistic" artists like Perez or Phil Jimenez or one of the artist to follow him on the series, Ivan Reis.  There's no fluidity to his figures and sometimes his exaggerated foreshortening just doesn't work.  Yet another strike against this series.  (disclaimer: this is my subjective opinion; don't bother hatin' on me if you enjoy Van Sciver's art; it's just not my cuppa, as they say)

Now, has this entire process been just a way for me to bitch about mainstream comics?  No.  And I should reiterate, I don't think these were bad comics.  If I'd felt they were bad, I would not have continued past the first collection.  Johns does know how to tell a story in comics form and zip it along.  He modified some classic aspects of the Green Lantern mythos (most notably, in these early issues, the Manhunters and the Guardians), and he is adding to it (the spectrum of rings is slowly becoming apparent as we lead up to the Sinestro Corps War).  There's action, some good page turns, some really nice family/relationship moments, and a number of nice twists and surprises.  It's all done well.

And then there's the art.  Getting past Van Sciver, the art from Carlos Pacheco and Ivan Reis is gorgeous.  And, though I haven't discussed it as much, when Dave Gibbons writes and draws some issues of Green Lantern Corps, it is wonderful.  Really some top-notch superhero art going on here.  The most interesting facet to this, for me, was discovering a Neal Adams influence in Reis's art that I did not see in the only other work of his I'd read - Blackest Night.  His mixing of Perez and Adams is lovely to look at, because he merges them nicely, shedding some of the ugliness of later Adams art (in my opinion) while opening things up a bit more than Perez does.  Really beautiful stuff.  Reis is definitely, in my opinion, the GL artist of note for this era in the way that Gil Kane was the artist of the initial era (and is arguably THE Green Lantern artist, all time.  Let's see some Gil Kane artwork, shall we?)

Overall, I'd give these books a C.  They were entertaining, for the most part, while I was reading them.  But I have no desire to re-read them again, and, at the point now where I'm a few issues from reading the Sinestro Corps War, it is beginning to feel like a chore to read.  So, I'll probably set this title aside, for now, and move on to something else to (re)discover.

chris

NEW TO ME: JSA volume 2 – Darkness Falls

Thanks to Comic Geek Speak, I’ve heard a number of glowing things about this run of comics – begun by James Robinson & David Goyer and continued by Goyer & Geoff Johns – through their series of “Footnotes” spotlights on the initial twelve issues of the run (discussions of issues 1 -11 are currently available at their site, with the twelfth issue’s discussion yet to be recorded). So, seeking out something new – for me – in the world of superheroes, I chose to start reading, and writing about, this series and Grant Morrison’s JLA.

JSA: Darkness Falls is the second collection of the acclaimed relaunch of the Justice Society from 2000, and I have to applaud DC comics for offering ten issues of the comic, in this trade collection, for only $19.95 (and if it has gone up since it was initially published, I apologize). But I have to say, the stories inside left me wanting for something more.

The biggest problem I have with this series is that I don’t care about these characters. Having not read Infinity Inc. or Young All-Stars back in theday, or the Justice Society even further back, my knowledge of them is meager, to say the least. And the writers give me little within these first fifteen issues to grasp onto and make me care. There’s a lot of exposition, and I learn a bit about these characters and am told a number of times how dire a situation may be, but I never feel it, with the exception of one, single moment:

The JSA have captured Kobra, who opened that particular story arc by destroying a passenger jet upon which Atom-Smasher’s mother was journeying. Atom-Smasher, aka Al Rothstein, who has been trying to deal with his mother’s death, grows to a size he’s never achieved before (pushing his psyche and his physical body to limits his friends know to be dangerous) and is ready to crush Kobra in his hand. Jack Knight (Starman) flies up and tells Al to stop. But he doesn’t want to listen; he’s apoplectic with rage and heartache. And Jack tells him, “I know it’s not fair, Al. You’ve dedicated your life to saving people. I know. My brother was killed by the Mist’s son, Kyle. And then I … I killed him. In battle … it was … there’s not one day that goes by that I don’t wish my brother was here with me, Al. That I was there to save him. But you know what? There’s also not one day that goes by that I don’t think about Kyle. You don’t want that, Al. You don’t want your mother’s memory tainted like that.”

It really is a beautiful little moment, but one that is ruined by the overt melodrama seen when Atom-Smasher returns to normal size damning Kobra as he sheds tears for his dead mother. (I don’t’ know if it’s the art or the writing that ruins the moment here, but it goes from subtle to “hammering over the head” very quickly).

The stories also suffer from some horrible one-liners:

• Dr. Mid-Nite: “Nice wing chun, Canary.” Black Canary: “Flattery will get you everywhere, Doc.”
• Mr. Terrific: “Extant didn’t create this world with sugar, spice, and everything nice.”
  
• Atom-Smasher: “All right, guys. For once, leave the flying to me.”

Dialogue like this included in such “end of the world” situations as the writers throw at us, the audience, make this feel like a schizophrenic series – does it want to be a comedy or does it want to be high drama? It’s frustrating and I would cringe every time I came to one of those “quips.”

And, with the final chapter, the writers make a poor storytelling choice by opening that chapter with the Star-Spangled Kid writing about the outcome of their battle with Extant in her diary. Her description tries to accentuate the dire position she and the other heroes were in, but by having it told from the perspective of someone who survived the ordeal, it bleeds all the tension from it that the creators have built up over the course of the previous issues.

There are, ultimately, some interesting panel layouts when we see the heroes battling Extant, and the climax provides an intriguing moral decision – utilizing the Worlogog’s time-bending properties to switch Kobra for Al’s mother as the plane from the opening chapter crashes – on the part of Atom-Smasher that could very well provide fascinating stories down the line (a moral choice that is made more profound and powerful if one is familiar with Geoff Johns’s personal tragedy). But, overall, I found the stories to be rather dull.

The art, again, is serviceable but Stephen Sadowski’s pencils lack the dynamism that could, in my eyes, elevate these stories. Buzz coming in to do a couple of fill-in issues is very much appreciated (this was my introduction to Buzz, a favorite of CGS). His beautifully feathered linework and facility with anatomy really shine in his two issues. And I greatly appreciate his ability to convey a realistic martial arts battle (see above). That was just fantastic stuff.

But that saving grace couldn’t save the entire book for me. I think, for now, I’ll leave the JSA and move to other stuff I haven’t read. Maybe I’ll return another time, but for now, I’m going to introduce myself to the world of Mark Millar, at least mainstream Mark Millar, and see if I can stomach his writing.

Stay tuned.

chris

Comic Talk ™: FLASHPOINT part II

So, yesterday I discussed the upcoming DC event, Flashpoint, and my less than ecstatic feelings toward it. This, despite the fact that I am a diehard Flash fan, paricularly the Barry Allen version, and I appreciate Geoff Johns's writing. But, it all feels forced. Like DC is going for another money grab.


Anyway. I posted my feelings - more a rant than anything - on the CGS boards (my rant having been sparked by their discussion of Flashpoint in one of the episodes last week) and David D., one of the moderators, called me on my diatribe. And he was right. So, it got me thinking a bit more about why I'm so irritated with Flashpoint, when I would expect to be excited. This is what came of that:

First, I responded to David's analysis of my post - which can be seen in yesterday's post.

Definitely a fair reading of my rant. And, ultimately, not what I hoped to get across.

I guess the problem I've had is the cavalier manner in which DC has been announcing all these mini-series (And, if DC did this same announcing of title with Blackest Night, my lack of vitriol against that event would be because Green Lantern was so far off my radar, I didn't even pick up Blackest Night until issue 5, after hearing the CGS guys talking about it). I do have a problem with the manner in which DC and Marvel deluge the market with titles, which seems to me a tactic they use to push out smaller publishers' books from the shelves. I understand it as a business tactic, but I am a person who takes issue with the corporate mindset in any endeavor.

I also understand I don't need to pick up any of these ancillary titles. I read Siege without any of the crossovers and did the same with Infinite Crisis. And the deluge of crossover titles does not mean they will be crap (I enjoyed a number of the BN minis, as stated above). That was a poor choice of words. I've read nothing about what this event or these books will entail, and have only read a list of creators in various threads, which leads me to believe that many of the books have a good chance of being better than average. So, no, crap isn't a fair descriptor.

A major reason I expect I will pass on Flashpoint will be my budgetary constraints. But, ultimately, I seriously expect not to buy any of the Flashpoint books (the Perez book excepted, but my plan is to seek it out in cheap bins or ebay) because I don't want to support these sprawling crossover events.

He replied:

Fair enough.

I do wonder- and this is a real question, not just a rhetorical challenge- what specifically has struck you as cavalier about the way that these titles have been announced (and now solicited)?

Which got me thinking more deeply about the topic.

Probably just a personal bias coupled with the fact that I really have not read anything about them, just that 15 mini-series are going to be published for Flashpoint. It feels like overkill. Combine that with DC canceling titles while announcing these 15 series, and it feels like they're just eating their own tail.

To be fair, Blackest Night really was no different. They only had 7 mini-series, plus the month of resurrected titles, but they also crossed into at least 8 regular titles for two or more issues.

(Are there plans for Flashpoint to cross into regular titles, or are these minis taking the place of those?)

I guess it's just the vantage point from where I'm standing. With BN, it wasn't even on my radar until halfway through the main book. So I wasn't paying attention to any of the lead-in to Blackest Night. And I did pick up some of the ancillary titles, including some GL books, which helped because the story did seem to weave in and out of the main book. If I am remembering correctly, some plot points were made outside the main mini-series, correct?

With Flashpoint, I was very excited for the announcement. Flash, particularly Barry Allen, is my go-to superhero. I want to see what's happening with him. But, if I'm going to need to read some other books besides the main series (and it is very possible I don't need to, but I can't count on that after Final Crisis and BN - again, correct me if I'm wrong in thinking major plot points were shared outside the main BN book), I don't want to be forced to do that, and my budget won't allow for that.

I don't know if that answers your question. Basically, it's the different vantage point from which I am approaching this event, and probably the reality that I have an emotional investment with this character that goes back to when I first started reading comics (we're closing in on three decades now) that has really gotten my panties in a bunch.

And, ultimately, Brian Hibbs – owner of Comix Experience in San Francisco - in a later episode in the week, put it more succinctly than I did. The problem with Flashpoint is that it looks very, very much like Blackest Night, with all the tie-ins. But Blackest Night evolved naturally from the very beginning of Geoff Johns’s run on Green Lantern, while this Flash event feels very forced, as if they are trying to recreate the success of Blackest Night (a character who’s just below the first tier heroes, written by Geoff Johns, with numerous tie-ins to the main mini-series, crossing through the DC universe).

Flashpoint feels cynical, while Blackest Night felt story-driven. And that’s what really has me irritated and disappointed with this event. An event that includes my favorite character. And one I will probably not pick up.

chris