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Archive for August, 2009

X-men Misfits Vol. 1 Buy at Amazon.com

When you think about it, the story of the X-Men has a lot of typical shoujo manga elements — beneath all the action, there are love triangles, drama and angst, and plenty of teenagers just coming into their own abilities and powers. It’s really not too much of a leap.

In the capable hands of writers Raina Telgemeier and Dave Roman (possibly comics’ cutest couple — I mean, seriously) and Indonesian artist Anzu, X-Men Misfits may upset some purists but will delight just about everyone else.

Kitty Pryde is re-interpreted as our shoujo heroine — someone who is thoughtful and kind but a little awkward and unsure of herself and doesn’t realize how cute she is. When she’s sent off to Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, she discovers she’s the only girl currently attending the school (which is a perfect shoujo motif). She quickly catches the eyes of the school’s resident bad-boys, the Hellfire Club.

Even as Kitty gains confidence — in her mutant abilities, in herself — she doesn’t seem to realize that the Hellfire Club views her as some sort of prize, a novelty. Although Pyro seems to genuinely care about her, he’s still overly possessive of her, as if he doesn’t want to lose the ego boost of being the boyfriend of the only girl at school.

Some things don’t quite work — the connection between Kitty and Bobby isn’t really there, even though I think we were supposed to feel it, and the conflict between “fire” and “ice” powers is a little too obvious. Still, the climax of the book shows how far Kitty has come in such a short time — her transition from a girl who wore a helmet and kneepads in case she accidentally fell through something to a beautiful, stylish young woman was subtle and elegantly done.

Anzu captures the shoujo style beautifully, with dynamic layouts, borderless panels and floral touches. Her bishonen version of the X-Men are wonderful, down to the ridiculous abs on the members of the Hellfire Club. She’s an amazing find and is perfect for this title.

There are also a few fun touches for X-Men fans, like Gambit (who isn’t named) playing solitaire with a deck of cards during lunch, Kitty pondering if her new “mutant” name should be “Ariel” and a mohawked Storm. These winking references show that this is a title that’s made by fans of the X-Men.

I’m usually someone who isn’t particularly interested in English-language comics done in a manga style, but Roman, Telgemeier and Anzu bring an amazing, intuitive understanding of the genre to X-Men Misfits. It looks and reads like a genuine shoujo manga title.

At the end, Roman thanks his sister, Michele, an X-Men fan, writing that she’d “talk endlessly about her favorite characters, explaining with great enthusiasm which ones were the hottest!” To me, that’s probably all you need to know about this. It’s for all the girls who grew up reading X-Men or are currently growing up reading X-Men. (And probably for some of the boys who aren’t too proud to admit they like the soap opera elements of the comics.)

If you’ve heard of Joseph P. Larkin, it may be due to his response to Kevin Church’s review of his book. Or maybe because he gave his own book 5 stars on Amazon.

You either will find these things funny or you won’t. Much like Arcade of Cruelty itself.

One part art book and one part comics collection, Arcade of Cruelty’s conceit is that this is a retrospective of Larkin’s life work. It’s unabashedly inclusive, beginning with early yearbook photos (defaced with vulgarities supposedly by Larkin’s friend “David”) and covers everything from adolescent drawings to college projects. Larkin doesn’t seem afraid to show his failures or things he admits don’t quite work.

He also doesn’t seem to be afraid to offend, including pages from his “beat-off binders” (all accompanied with the caption “This is deeply disturbing”) as well as some comics that make rape jokes (which worked for me as more of commentary than out-right “jokes”) and an extended selection of comics focusing on Sept. 11, 2001.

I think it’s that last section that’s a sticking point for a lot of people as Larkin mocks others’ reactions to 9/11 as well as some other comic book artists in the process. I thought his strip calling out Jeffrey Brown’s self-centeredness worked well (as do his other strips skewering Brown elsewhere in the book), as did the James Kochalka one (which was a little more kind-hearted).

I personally don’t think there’s any one “right” response to tragedy so I see nothing wrong with this section. But like I said, you’ll either find it funny or you won’t.

Arcade of Cruelty wants you to think Larkin is a misogynist asshole. And he really tries to maintain that image in his comments. But his ability to poke fun at himself (and as well as the culture of masculinity) belies him to be otherwise. No, this isn’t for everyone, but Larkin has a fun, mischievous voice. I’m interested in what he does next.

I’m sure it comes as no surprise to anyone that I am a fan of Michel Gondry, the French music video/movie director. I’m a bigger fan of his videos than his movies, though. He also directed one of my favorite episodes of Flight of the Conchords.

But he’s also done some comic-related things, so for no particular reason, I’ve declared it Michel Gondry Day.

We Lost the War But Not the Battle (Picture Box, 2008) is basically the sort of comic you’d expect from Gondry — a playful sense of “I’m making this up as I go” mixed with a kind of winking, innocent take on sex and violence. It’s the sort of comic a 12-year-old would make — or perhaps the sort of comic a grown man who named his documentary “I’ve Been 12 Forever” would make.

The plot involves four old friends getting called into military service (they got out of it originally by faking various issues, like bed wetting or being suicidal). Nevermind that one of them is dead and is now a walking skeleton.

They have to fight the all-female International Solidarity Army. It goes about as well as you expect (the title should give you a clue).

The art should be familiar if you know Gondry’s work. There’s a looseness about it, as if he was mostly just doodling these pages, but it keeps the whole thing light and fun. The color palette is surprisingly soft and muted.

I’ve read some reviews of this that found it misogynist. And I guess, if you want to see it that way, maybe. But to me, its stance on women is more “Girls are scary because they’re beautiful and smarter than men,” which strikes me as a very 12-year-old thing to think. All in all, it’s pretty ridiculous and goes off on this weird tangent at the end, as if Gondry realized he still had pages to fill.

It’s a fun thing for a Gondry fan to have, but the appeal to anyone else is probably pretty limited.

Gondry’s teenage son, Paul, also made a comic called Crazy Town (Picture Box, 2008). Unlike his father’s comic which reflected the perspective of his inner 12-year-old, this definitely shows a glimpse into the mind of a teenage boy.

While it supposedly follows some sort of rebellion against a dictatorship, that’s pretty much secondary to Paul Gondry’s weird drawings and penchant for let’s-shock-the-grown-ups ultraviolence. It’s very unpolished, each page packed with drawing and rambling dialogue. I know that makes it sound bad, and no, I didn’t think it was great, but there’s still something fun about it. It’s very free and seems to come from highly creative place where anything can and does go. As he gets older, I’m sure Paul Gondry is going to be someone to watch.

Tokyo! Buy at Amazon

Gondry also contributed “Interior Design” to the trio of short films that make up Tokyo! Based on “Cecil and Jordan in New York,” by Gabrielle Bell (who co-wrote the script). Moving the story from New York to Tokyo works nicely, as the setting reflects the isolation that Hiroko, played by the utterly awesome Ayako Fujitani, feels. Her playful optimism at first arriving in the city with her filmmaker boyfriend is quickly replaced by feeling lost and useless, represented by her transformation into a chair.

While in the comic, the character is just drawn a human in one panel and then a chair in the next, Gondry uses his trademark low-budget effects to show Hiroko’s transition. It’s a surprisingly profound — and a little horrifying. I like Bell’s comic, but I think Gondry’s film expands upon the concepts and communicates them more fully.

I want to see more movies (I know he’s directing The Green Hornet) and comics and really, anything else, from Michel Gondry.

This is probably one of my absolutely favorite music videos of all time. It’s definitely my favorite Michel Gondry video. (And my favorite Daft Punk video, for that matter.) So I leave you with Daft Punk’s “Around the World.”

Abstract Comics Buy at Amazon.com

Every couple of months or so, another article will come out considering the question of “Are comics literature?” Much has been discussed about the value of graphic novels with attempts to place them alongside prose books.

Less has been discussed about comics as art, however.

Abstract Comics (2009, Fantagraphics) tries to make the case for the latter. On one hand, it succeeds beautifully. On the other hand, it’s really hard to say if some these are truly “comics.”

The book is designed beautifully — editor Andrei Molotiu presents this book like an exhibition catalog and the oversized pages are filled with rich blacks and vibrant colors. It’s maybe not quite a coffee table book, but it’s a lovely one to leave lying around to flip through idly.

The content serves as a great introduction to a genre of comics that few people knew existed. Molotiu takes somewhat of a scholarly approach to the content, placing the concept of abstract comics within art history in his introduction. He makes a good case.

Obviously, some of these are absolutely what I think of comics. Robert Crumb’s “Abstract Expressionist Ultra Super Modernistic Comics” is done in his classic style, even if it lacks a narrative, and Mike Getsiv’s “Shapes,” with its swirl of colors, has plenty of movement. Henrik Rehr’s “Storms” is powerful as it builds, evoking the chaos of storms. Mark Gonyea and James Kochalka also provide interesting contributions — abstract, certainly, as the title of the book would imply, but very much grounded in the traditional sequential form of comics.

Other works in the book, I think it’s a stretch to call comics. In fact, I think it’s a stretch to even say they’re sequential art. Tim Gaze’s series of splotchy patches of black ink, segmented randomly, are appealingly disorganized, but they don’t seem to move from one to the next with clear transitions. Richard Hahn’s bicolored paintings, divided into tiny, uneven boxes, are lovely and soothing, but don’t say “comics” to me at all. I understand that some of this is just a matter of personal opinion — you may think they’re comics whereas I don’t — but some of this feels like a stretch.

And you may have noticed that everyone I’ve listed so far is a man. There is not one woman creator featured in this book. The Abstract Comics blog features a couple — such as Satu Kaikkonen and Nina Roos — so I’m going to think their work was discovered too late for inclusion here and it wasn’t some intentional oversight. Still, I would’ve loved to have seen more diversity in the creators featured in this book.

Overall, this is a cool concept and I was surprised by it. I think it’s definitely going to cause some debates about what comics are and are not, and that’s a good thing. I’m going to enjoy revisiting this book, even if I don’t agree that all of the works featured here are comics.