Innocent Bystander

A trio of comic book reprints: Marvel Masterworks: Captain America, Fantastic Four by Jonathan Hickman, and DC Universe: Origins

I have to confess to a weakness for 1960s Marvel reprints, in any format. I open up any kind of book that reprints a story from that era and I am sucked in by the art and the memories. I remember long, hot, summer afternoons which began with a trip through the noon-day sun to Moser's and Brady's Newsstands in downtown Tamaqua, PA, resulting in a brown paper bag filled with new comics. The afternoon was spent in the shade of my grandparents' back porch, the comics splayed out next to me on a table, carefully set aside from the sweating anodized aluminum tumbler so they won't get dripped on. There were DC comics in those stacks, for sure, but those eight or ten monthly Marvels took centerstage, and anything by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby were the first reads out of the bag...

Marvel is re-releasing its run of Marvel Masterworks in new paperback editions. For a series of books that has been reprinted ad infinitum, they're a pricey $24.99 each, but the choice of covers is up to you. I myself am head over heels over Dean White's painted recreations of classic Marvel covers. Some work better than others (his version of Kirby's "It Happened on Yancy Street"--above--is a masterpiece; the Cap cover at left not so much), but I pretty much love them all, which I know is a bit of sacrilege. The latest in the series is Captain America vol. 1, which reprints those amazing stories from Tales of Suspense, when Cap first came back. This one covers issues 59-81, most of them drawn by Kirby and all of them written by Lee. And while they are--at times--a bit hard to read--Kirby's art has never been more dynamic. Drawing Cap again seemed to invigorate him, or maybe it was because his entire output at the time (mid 1960s) was such a whirlwind of creativity that he himself just got caught up with it. But those first issues, from number 59 through 66 or so, are so dynamic, so action-packed, they're still a revelation 40+ years later. This, to me at least, is Kirby at his absolute best. 

Speaking of Kirby, there is no better run of superhero comics than his 100+ issues of Fantastic Four (along with the six annuals he and Stan Lee also put out each summer). I'm never really sure which weighs more in my mind: how good the actual books are (issues 44-94 are the greatest 50-issue run of comic books, EVER, for me at least), or if it's the age I first read them at, when I 5-15 years old. Whichever it is, that run spoiled me forever, at least when it comes to the FF. No one else has held a candle to those stories, that incredible spurt of creativity. John Byrne came close in the 1980s, and I had high hopes for Mark Millar and Bryan Hitch after their great run on The Ultimates series, but they just kind of petered out. Jonathan Hickman and Dale Eaglesham are at the helm now, and I've heard great things about their run, so I picked up the first collected volume of their work, and found myself somewhat disappointed. Hickman certainly nails both the family aspect and the science fiction story aspects of the FF, but there's still something missing. Eaglesham's art doesn't help. His beefy Reed Richards is like an alternate universe Mister Fantastic (made all the more apparent by their first story arc together, featuring Reeds from across the Multiverse working together). And his Sue Storm isn't going to sneak up on anyone with those double D's she's packing, invisible or not. I know the Lee/Kirby stuff is the toughest act in comics to follow, and anyone tackling the FF has their work cut out for them. I'll probably give the second volume of Hickman's run a look-see, but so far, I'm not getting what all the hype is about.

Last but not least in this "Wednesday is new comics day" post is DC Universe: Origins, a slim volume that reprints the 52 2-page origin stories originally presented in 52. These are pretty to look at, with some of comics' biggest names tackling the heroes and villains of the DCU, including Brian Bolland, Bruce Timm, Kevin Nowlan, Walt Simonson, Gary Frank, Andy Kubert, Adam Hughes, and many more. But collapsing decades of continuity into a two-page origin story isn't a great idea. It might have worked for Jerry Siegel & Joe Shuster and Bob Kane & Bill Finger back in the day when they threw together a couple of cursory origin stories for their creations, but not here, not now. For the most part, these stories are better looked at than read.

The iPad is coming...but so might be the end of the world as I know it...

A week from now I will be holding an iPad in my hot little hands--hands I hope are not too hot from the device itself. Lord knows my laptop has cooked certain body parts more than a few times. Thank god my baby-birthing days are over.

I'm wondering how the arrival of my iPad will change my life. And that became really apparent the other day when I read Anne Taylor Fleming's latest "Open City" column in the April issue of Los Angeles Magazine. Unfortunately LA Magazine's website doesn't run very many articles from the actual current issue. I guess they prefer their revenue stream in the "classic" print mode, so I'm doubting we'll see an iPad specific edition of the mag anytime soon. It doesn't appear that they've even adapted to this new-fangled Internet thing.

But Fleming's article, titled "Page Turner," is probably the best thing I've read so far about the whole Kindle/iPad/electronic reader vs. printed books debate. It covers it from multiple angles: that of an inveterate book reader and lover, a writer, and a published author. If you find yourself in a Barnes and Noble or Borders that carries LA Magazine, do yourself a favor and sit down and read the whole article (screw their revenue stream...this kind of wisdom should be posted online).

Fleming runs through her reasons for becoming a writer. She mentions the joy of getting that first book with your name on it, how permanent it feels, how the weight of it means much more than a simple number of pounds on a scale. "When I finally joined the author ranks and the copy of my first book arrived in the mail, I was dazzled, pawing it and sniffing it as an animal might take the measure of a its newborn. I savored the thickness of the paper, the title page, the type font. It felt so tangible, so permanent, my own creative stab at immortality."

She recounts how she used her husband's Kindle at the last minute for a book she needed to research a project and how it was there, suddenly, instantly, silently. "I was horrified by my gratitude because I knew what it meant: I was done for; I had crossed the divide. In that moment I had betrayed my values, my library, every bookstore I had ever loved. I was a Kindle slut with a taste for more."

Fleming also talks about what this means for writers. Lower book prices means less revenue. More writers. ("Now anyone can self-publish, and the idea of what it means to be a professional writer is changing.") But there's a payback. She fully admits that reading a book on a screen instead of in its printed form isn't the same deal, an idea Stephen King fully endorses in his latest column in the April 2nd issue of Entertainment Weekly. Fleming writes about the books she loves: "...their presence reminds me of the biggest pleasure of my life, what makes the days bearable—the act of reading—and concomitantly, the act of writing. Somehow seeing words on that screen has yet to kick my heart in a similar manner."

I wonder myself, as I sit in a room overloaded with books (10 separate bookshelves, each packed) how I will feel when the iPad arrives and I download my first book. Can I justify the cost--no matter how much less expensive than a "real" book--without having something really tangible to hold and feel and look at on a shelf? Does the added benefit of not owning so much STUFF pay off? And in the end, isn't it the words of a writer, a person who affects you, moves you, maybe even changes you, with the beauty, soul, and intelligence of what they've written, the most important thing and not HOW we read them?

Is it the driver or the car he or she arrives in?

Fleming is torn, too: "Oh, my library, my sweet library. Can you forgive me my treachery, my duplicity, my forsaking you for something hipper and sleeker? I wince when I pass you, feeling contrite and cheap and quite surprised at the suddenness with which a suitor stole, if not my heart—not that—at least my attention."

(Apologies to Ms. Fleming for lifting so much of her wonderful article for my own purposes.)

The KA-CHUNK Report: The clock stops ticking...for now.

It finally happened. Someone stopped Jack Bauer.

It happened on Friday. March 26 at approximately 4:44pm. If we were watching 24 and it went to commercial break, that's the time that would appear on the screen, and in the "death tradition" of the show, it would almost certainly have been a silent clock. 

Executive producer Howard Gordon and star/e.p. Kiefer Sutherland both decided it was time to pull the plug, even if NBC was reportedly circling the show as a possible pick-up. There's so much irony in that statement. NBC created the disastrous Jay Leno Show to SAVE money on the high cost of scripted shows, particularly dramas. Then they consider picking up one of the most expensive shows on television. (They're all smoking crack in the NBC executive suite.)

So after 8 years--8 DAYS really--Jack Bauer and friends (and enemies) come to an end in May of this year. At least on the small screen. The long-rumored 24 movie is moving forward, written by Billy Ray (who wrote the excellent movie adaptation of State of Play last year, from the BBC mini-series). According to Sutherland, the final episodes of this season will set up the movie, which quashes any possibilities of going back in time and doing a film with Tony, Michelle, and the first (real) President Palmer. 

I always thought 24 would end with a bang, not a whimper. To me, there was only one possible ending to the series and that was Jack Bauer's death. Despite being the hero of the series, he has to pay for all of his sins at some point in time, no matter how many times he saved America and the world. Sutherland says their intent is to create a "definitive end for Jack Bauer," but I don't see how that's possible if they're setting up a movie. Producer Gordon says they go to "a very definitive, very complex place."

But any movie is at least 2 years off, I reckon, and asking a fickle viewing public to remember that "definitive end" is asking a lot. I'm sad to see 24 go, but not as sad as I would have been if it ended last season, which was a great one. Season eight...not so much. Even though there was an extremely interesting plot twist at the very end of last Monday's episode--one I didn't see coming at all--this year is still a "meh" one as far as I'm concerned, victim to the schizophrenic nature of the show's casting: sometimes it's wonderful, sometimes it's bewildering and annoying. This year it's the latter.

And that silent clock thing they pull when someone dies? Well, it's not exactly true here. 24 will live again on the big screen.

Magazine rack: the new issue of Entertainment Weekly...

Reading each issue of Entertainment Weekly is like gambling on a slot machine: you pull the handle and wait to see what pops up of interest. Sometimes you get three cherries, three great feature articles that you can't wait to dive into. And sometimes you get zilch. But rarely have I seen an issue like the April 2 one, featuring the imminently forgettable Katherine Heigl in an "angelic" pose on the cover. It has the added bonus of being an EW cover that makes you wonder "Who the hell is that?"

The cover feature is on Heigl leaving Grey's Anatomy, a story that seems so old you'd think the rest of the issue would have interviews with new stars Burt Lancaster and Gregory Peck. Heigl became a newly-minted star herself with her turn in Judd Apatow's Knocked Up. She coasted on the new found fame of movie stardom while Apatow was still making movies that were remotely appealing and she has yet to make another movie that is even semi-enjoyable. The Ugly Truth, anyone? I rest my case. She's the poster child for spoiled stardom. 

But this issue doesn't stop there. It goes on to become a pop culture masterpiece when it comes to turning me off. An American Idol article? Check! "Tiger Woods Checks Into Image Rehab?" Check! Articles on both Miley Cyrus AND Jennifer Lopez? Check AND double-check! (My sixth addition to "5 Ways Jennifer Lopez Can Get Back on Top:" Retire gracefully.) And of course the obligatory blowjob to some sort of "legendary" Hollywood figure, this time producer Jerry Weintraub. Check!

I love Entertainment Weekly and I've read every issue since its inception back in 1990. But boy, when it's bad, it's really f*cking bad, and this week's issue is a new nadir. But that photo of an unrecognizable Heigl on the cover--best known as a blonde, now a brunette--sure is crying out for a Sharpie mustache and goatie.

Secret Lives of Great Filmmakers by Robert Schnakenberg

The new book Secret Lives of Great Filmmakers is the latest in a series of books from Quirk, which has included the Secret Lives of Great Authors, Great Artists, and Great Composers. I'm guessing we'll soon be graced with Political Figures and maybe even Porno Stars. Or maybe that will be one book. There's not too much separating the two.

The entire series is a fun look at famous persons, both living and dead. All the books have a uniformly great design with some wonderful cartooning inside. The Filmmakers one is the first one I've bought and read pretty much cover-to-cover. Written by Robert Schnakenberg (who also wrote the "Great Authors" volume) and illustrated by Mario Zucca, it's an enjoyable romp through Hollywood--and worldwide--cinema, digging up dirt on famous directors and producers, including Cecil B. DeMille, Walt Disney, Alfred Hitchcock, Charlie Chaplin, Francis Ford Coppola, George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and many more. Some of the stuff is pretty much common knowledge--Disney's supposed freezing, Chaplin's thing for young girls--but other stuff is brand new (to me, at least) and all of it is presented in a fun, easy-breezy format that's great to read. I don't think there's anything too shocking here. Filmmakers, after all, are also human beings and we all have our own sets of peccadilloes locked away somewhere. This book is an enjoyable read full of information you'll probably never use, unless you're drunk and want to try and impress people at a party or bar. But trust me, "Cecil B. DeMille was a toe-sucker" is never a good ice-breaker. Go instead with "Quentin Tarentino IS a toe-sucker." It's more current and relatable.

Some things in Hollywood NEVER change.

Friday Foto #122...

I will never get tired of California sunsets. Jan. 16, 2010. To see more of my photos, Friday or otherwise, click here!

My addiction...

I am not the most disciplined person in the world. I thank god I never started smoking, never developed a taste for liquor, and never had the money to gamble, not to mention spend on hookers. It would have been the road to ruin.

But lately I have fallen off the wagon of living a relatively clean existence in life. I have become (BIG BREATH) addicted to Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook.

Oh, I know, I scoffed every time I saw a new "medal" posted on some of my Facebook friends' profiles. It seemed like an incredibly inconsequential game...line-up three "gems" in a row and you get points. If you get four or more, they turn into special gems worth more points. Pffft. Who gives a bejeweled rat's ass?

Then I tried it. And I liked it. Then I got better at it. One time I scored over 108,000 points in one game. I started to pay attention to my statistics, which levels I had achieved. I started to play every night. In the morning when I got up. At work if I had a minute to relax. "One more game," I'd tell myself. "I need one more 25,000 pointer to level up!" One game turned into three. Three into six. And when I went to bed at night, I closed my eyes to cascading gems, colliding and exploding into each other.

As addictions go, it's not a bad one, I suppose. No one is getting hurt (besides the occasional headache), nor is there money changing hands for illicit conduct. I no longer scoff at my friends' medallions of honor, but I refuse to post my own, for fear of my secret--"Yes, I have no life"--receiving concrete evidence as validation on my Facebook page. Because let's face it, in this day and age of social networking ruining golf stars and ending Academy Award winning actresses' marriages, what you post is what you live.

The Art of Jaime Hernandez: The Secrets of Life and Death by Todd Hignite

I have waxed rhapsodically about how we are living in the Golden Age of comic strip reprints. But it goes--thankfully--further than that. We're pretty much living in the Golden Age of books devoted to all kinds of comic art, not just syndicated strips. One such niche is art books. Dark Horse has published a number of beautiful, big "Art of" books in the past few years, including tomes devoted to Mike Mignola, Frank Miller, Stan Sakai, Jeff Smith, and most recently, Charles Vess. My friend Charlie Kochman over at his Abrams Comicarts imprint has given us Mark Evanier's Kirby: King of Comics and Denis Kitchen's Harvey Kurtzman: The MAD Genius of Comics. Add to that list the new Art of Jaime Hernandez: The Secrets of Life and Death by Todd Hignite, new from Abrams and appearing in comics shops this week.

I have to confess to having never read Love and Rockets, Los Bros. Hernandez's (Jaime and his brother Gilbert) masterpiece that has been part of the indy comics scene for over 25 years now. I bought the first issue when it came out--at that time I was working in a comics shop in Pittsburgh, and I pretty much bought the first issue of EVERYTHING that came out, except for that silly Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles thing ("Who would want to read that?")--and promptly decided it wasn't my cup of tea. But I've always been enamored of Jaime Hernandez's open and expressive style of cartooning, and this book showcases that in loving detail. Written and compiled by Todd Hignite--whose Comic Art magazine is sorely missing these days--the book runs the gamut of Hernandez's life, from his earliest influences and childhood to his latest work. It's a treasure trove of previously published and unpublished art, much of it shot from the originals.

There are complete stories here, too: "Spring 1982" is reprinted in its entirety (shot from the originals), along with Hernandez's "La Maggie La Loca" 24-part color strip that was serialized in the New York Times Magazine's "Funny Pages" section in 2006, the second artist to be featured that way by the venerable "newspaper of record."

Designed by cartoonist Jordan Crane, the book is beautifully put together and there's an "ooo" or an "ahh" every couple of pages or so. Crane's understated design puts the art center stage and like all good design, you're unaware of it until you really sit down and look at how the book is put together.

But Hernandez is the real star of this book, of course. My particular favorite section is the "Sketchbooks" section near the back. I wish someone--maybe Fantagraphics?--would publish a big hardbound volume of Jaime's sketchbook stuff, like they did with R. Crumb and like Drawn & Quarterly has done with Chris Ware's gorgeous sketchbooks. From the small sampling presented in this big, beautiful book, I'd love to see more. Much more.

So...what's bugging you today, Gary?

There's ALWAYS something bugging Gary. Let's check in and see what's bugging him today...

Item #1: We seem to be once again bombarded with those creepy/ugly IKEA commercials. There are two of them extolling the virtues of the store's kitchen appliances and remodeling. One features a pair of extremely creepy young twin girls staring at--and talking to--twin ovens, the other a gangly and ugly couple high-fiving and chest-bumping their appliances for a dinner party well done. If the purpose of a commercial is to be memorable enough that people talk about it later, these ads are successful...hence this blog post. However they also make me change the channel every time they're on. You win one, you lose one, IKEA.

Item #2: Visiting the website Texts From Last Night is now one of the high-points of my day, but their main advertiser is American Apparel. So can someone please tell me why every AA ad I see looks like Third World porn? Okay...Third World is exclusionary. Let's throw in "former Soviet bloc countries," too, for good measure.

Item #3: While I tend to agree with Vice President Joe Biden that health care reform is a pretty "fucking big deal," I'm starting to wonder if we actually have a VP or the political equivalent of a talk show announcer. Biden sometimes exhibits the kiss-ass elan of Ed McMahon crossed with the unpredictable nature of Artie Lange. He's either going to show up in rehab or on TMZ sometime soon.

Only 3 things? Must be a happy day.

Why Chris Evans as Captain America is totally wrong...

Rumors of the imminent casting of Captain America for a series of films from Marvel Entertainment have been flying for months. In the past few weeks, it's really heated up as a date to start filming looms heavy on the horizon. Many actors have been mentioned as having had screen tests for the character who is the lynchpin of the Avengers. The actor hired would be the star of two tent pole franchises: a series of Cap movies and a series of Avengers films.

Some of the choices have been bewildering to say the least. Much as I love John Krasinski on The Office, he'd be totally wrong for Steve Rogers/Captain America. Many bloggers and industry wags have suggested Jon Hamm from Mad Men as Cap, but he's too old, and let's face it...he'd be perfect as an older Hal Jordan/Green Lantern (although that role has already gone to Ryan Reynolds). And now the frontrunner seems to have emerged from a pack for the role of Captain America, and it's the erstwhile Johnny Storm/Human Torch of the two awful Fantastic Four movies, Chris Evans.

Chris Evans has always been an actor I just don't get. Like the jug-eared and mumbling Channing Tatum (another "prominent" name mentioned for Cap), he's an actor whose appeal is totally lost on me. But in every film I've seen Evans appear in, his persona has been that of the wise-ass, one that fit for Johnny Storm but is totally wrong for Captain America.

The character--created by Joe Simon and Jack Kirby--dates back to 1941, before the country went to war in World War II. Steve Rogers was a scrawny kid who was rejected for military service, but volunteered to be a part of a secret government experiment to create the "Super Soldier." Rogers was the only test case who survived and after his successful experiment, the creator of the super soldier serum, Dr. Erskine, was assassinated, his secret dying with him. Thus Steve Rogers became the only super soldier, Captain America.

The character became a symbol for America at the time, and when he was revived in comics in the early 1960s, he was given a double dose of tragedy: He lost his sidekick, Bucky Barnes, in the waning days of World War II and he was a man out of time. He had skipped ahead twenty years to a whole new era. All of his family and friends were dead or older, while he--asleep for two decades in suspended animation, frozen in a block of ice in the arctic (Hey! It's comic books, okay?)--remained in his early twenties.

The movie version that's coming will keep some of that storyline. The first Captain America movie is supposed to take place during World War II, setting up the character. At some point--maybe at the end of that movie or at the beginning of The Avengers movie--Cap will be thrust into our current time, an action made even worse than in the comics because it's a whole new CENTURY, not just twenty years later. And undoubtedly when that happens, Cap will stay true to his comic book persona and become the authority figure of The Avengers, the glue that holds the group of heroes--including Iron Man and Thor--together. Tony Stark (Iron Man) is a spoiled rich brat who is used to getting his own way; Thor is literally a god. No further explanation necessary. Cap is the person who forges them into a team and makes that dynamic work. And Chris Evans as an actor--at least in EVERYTHING I've seen him in--is absolutely incapable of playing that role convincingly.

Evans has always played the smart-ass in films, from the awful Cellular to the even worse Push, and Cap is definitely not a smart-ass. He's an earnest, deadly-serious straight arrow who places his love of country above all else. Any actor who plays him is going to run the danger of turning him into a camp figure, and the screenwriters and directors are going to have to walk a fine line with the character, hopefully making sure not to turn him into a flag-waving zealot who seems like a living, breathing anachronism. Chris Evans doesn't have the acting chops to play this character, and I'm praying to god the rumors of him signing on are untrue.

There is one actor  who I think would be perfect for the role and that's Ryan McPartlan from Chuck. He plays Devon, Chuck's sister's husband, better known as "Captain Awesome." He has the look for Cap and he also has the voice and demeanor for him. While he plays a bit of a flake on Chuck, I think he'd be a much better choice than Evans. But whomever ends up playing Captain America, he's going to have to commit himself for NINE possible films, of--I'm guessing--varying degrees of participation. Some will be just cameos like the Sam Jackson/Nick Fury appearances in the two Iron Man films and The Hulk. Others will be Cap as lead character, front and center.

According to The Hollywood Reporter, Chris Evans has been offered the role by Marvel. It's up to him now to either accept or decline. Do the right thing, Chris, and walk away from the shield. Please.