Author: Ryan

I understand why some people don’t like Frank Miller. He has his faults and quirks as a writer that can rub people the wrong way, and many of them seem to have become exaggerated during his rise to fame. But much of the criticism of 300 – that it’s xenophobic, homophobic, racist, pro-US, anti-US – honestly seems to be missing the point, because the book is probably the simplest and purest distillation of Miller’s writing to be found: It’s all about macho.

This shouldn’t be surprising to anyone familiar with Miller’s work. Batman got shot or beat up by Superman, had his butler patch him up, then got back to work. Sin City was full of tough guys who could probably stay out of trouble if they thought with their heads instead of their fists and dicks. But those characters are nothing compared to the Spartans.

The original tough guys. The greatest, fiercest soldiers the world has ever seen. Real men who faced death with only the most basic necessities a refusal to back down. They held off the greatest army known to mankind with only 300 men, a strategic choice of where to fight, and sheer, manly determination.

Yes, it’s a romanticization. An ideal that probably wouldn’t hold up to much scrutiny. As a historical document, 300 doesn’t hold much water. But then, it’s not really meant to, any more than The Adventures of Robin Hood is meant to be a serious examination of medieval society. 300 is not Age of Bronze, and there’s no reason why it should be.

That idealization, the perfect society, requires an opposite, and Miller isn’t dealing in shades of grey. And so we get the Persians as total opposites: Luxurious, overwhelming, and glorious. And the very embodiment of that empire is its king, Xerxes. Yes, he’s pierced and kind of effeminate, but sexuality is less important than philosophy: The Persian king travels in a massive throne carried by servants, covered in gold and useless, frivolous jewellery. He is a god king, above all else, while the Spartan King Leonidas marches with his troops, no better or worse than the greenest recruit.

Yes, it’s a stereotype. But it’s not one of race, nationality, or sexuality. Miller has taken his ideal, the root of the tough guy tree, and adapted its enemy to suit the epic scope of his story. And while the Persian lords and their vanity are derided by Miller and his Spartans, their soldiers are not: The Persian Immortals are “The deadliest fighting force in all Asia,” lethal and disciplined. The conflict of 300 is ultimately between Leonidas and Xerxes – between Freedom and Tyranny, if you accept Miller’s story at face value – not Greeks and Persians. Miller’s not one to find fault with an honest fighting man.

300 isn’t Miller’s best work – it’s simplistic and more concerned with epic notions of bravery and honour than plot or character. But it’s remarkably pure of vision and almost entirely lacking subtext. It’s Miller glorifying an ideal, villifying its opposition, and ignoring nearly everything else. It’s about being Macho. Looking for other themes or messages is merely grasping at straws: 300 simply isn’t that deep.

Prior to a couple months ago, I don’t think I can recall reading any interviews with SLG publisher Dan Vado. That’s not saying a lot – it’s not like SLG gets weekly coverage at Newsarama or anything, and when it does it’s usually EiC Jennifer DeGuzman talking. (Amusing side note: When Marvel and Top Cow announce vague digital distribution plans, everyone goes nuts; when SLG actually debuts their online comics service, no one seems to notice.)

But man, I hope he does more. He’s just so unrelentingly blunt, as evidenced by his recent, apparently outrageous comments at Wondercon about what he’d do differently if he were starting the business over again. (other than, you know, not doing it at all) His general rebuttal and commentary is even better.

Perhaps I’m just a cynic who refuses to take things at face value (in fact, there’s no “perhaps” about it), but I don’t understand how anyone could assume he was entirely serious when he said creator ownership was bad business, or that there wasn’t more to it than that. Obviously he was serious about the purely business aspect: Vado probably could have made more money if the somehow retained the right to put together more Johnny the Homicidal Maniac comics while Jhonen Vazquez was off at Nickelodeon making far more money.

On the other hand, how many corporate-based comic book publishers have been around for 20 years? Many have come and gone, while SLG continues to put out good books year after year after year. At the same time, Vado and SLG seem to have engendered a great deal of loyalty from creators they have published: Andi Watson keeps coming back (even if he does work with other, better-paying publishers), and they continue to attract great talent like Jim Rugg, Jamie Smart, and James Turner. Vado might be a terrible businessman (by his own semi-admission), but he makes a pretty darn good patron.

But apparently, after one answer to a hypothetical question at a convention panel, he’s a mean old robber baron out to exploit the working artist. Even if he is an internet hermit, surely 20 years of running a successful (creatively, if not financially) and creator-friendly publisher speaks louder than any blog?

I haven’t actually written about any comics lately. Last week didn’t produce anything that absolutely demanded commentary, but I know you, my loyal readership, demands quality content; here, at least, is content:

Crossing Midnight #4: Mike Carey’s Vertigo fantasy is this close to joining my favourites, but the art continues to hold it back. Jim Fern’s not bad by any stretch of the imagination – though this issue is his weakest yet – and he’s ably assisted by inker Mark Pennington and colourist extraordinaire Jose Villarubia, but he’s still not bringing the wow factor. Yet another supernatural player takes an interest in the twins: Nidoru, the ruler of needles and pins and rival to Lord Aratsu. She helps put Toshi & Kai’s mother back together again, and offers to assist their father, but not without a price. She also dispatches a horde of soul-eating goblins, but that seems to be a freebie. Meanwhile, Toshi is groomed, literally, as Aratsu’s servant.

Carey’s creating a storyline that’s mysterious without being confusing, and introduces an interesting new player with every issue. But Fern’s art still isn’t conveying the magic the story requires, and the big revelations lack the oomph they need to make a real impact. It’s not talent, I suspect, but technique, and hopefully that can be improved; one could probably learn a great deal just from studying J.H. Williams’ gorgeous covers. Crossing Midnight remains a good book with the potential to move into great territory.

Omega Men #5: Apparently this is tying into 52 in some way, which rather annoys me. Also, it explains why everything seems kind of vague and convoluted: Obviously I needed to read a bunch of other books to understand this seemingly stand-alone mini starring a bunch of Z-list characters.

Still, it continues to be a fun ride, even if I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. This issue: Evil alien spider queens, sentient lovestruck gel computers, and Vril Dox being an asshole and dooming the universe. What’s not to like? Mostly, I admit, I’m buying this for the fantastic art by Henry Flint, who’s perfect for this sort of bizarre alien-filled sci-fi. His weaknesses show on the more human characters, like Lianna the Zamaron nun, but thankfully there aren’t many humans to be found: Just alien weirdos. It’s like the Muppet Show in space. (but more diverse than Pigs In Space.

Firestorm #33: I want to like Firestorm, but every time I’ve picked up an issue of this volume, I’ve been bored stiff. Dwayne McDuffie takes over for the final story arc before cancellation and brings the New Gods with him – and thankfully, he’s brought a pretty good story with him, too.

Mister Miracle shows up to explain Something Big and Important to Firestorm. I’m not sure when he got all expository – when last we saw him in Seven Soldiers, he was just getting over being dead – but McDuffie still writes Shiloh as pretty cocky and arrogant. Then Orion – who’s even more cocky and arrogant – shows up, and everyone fights. It’s not the most original plot twist in comics history, but there’s a good fight scene with snappy banter and some creative uses of superpowers. Can you really ask for more than Firestorm hitting Orion with a giant titanium bat?

The art is a tad on the bland side, but it’s a fun superheroes-hitting-superheroes romp.

Blue Beetle #12: Speaking of fun superhero romps, Blue Beetle takes a step down from the past two issues of New Gods craziness, but still turns in a solid story that gets into the business of explaining where the Scarab came from. That’s something of a relief: I was afraid the book would fall into the horrible comic cliché of forever teasing the sordid secrets of the book.

After a nice twist on the usual secret identity schtick – it seems like everyone knows Jaime is the Beetle, but no one wants anyone else to know that they know – we get a partially dismembered cow and a giant alien thingee that goes around smashing and blasting things. Blue Beetle and Peacemaker thwart it and do some snazzy bantering along the way, and then a blue guy shows up to explain everything, conjuring up a nice Manga Kahn vibe along the way. Rafael Albuquerque’s art is a bit fuzzy in the fight sequences, but Blue Beetle continues to be an enjoyable read.

Nextwave #12: The final issue. On the one hand, alas. On the other, better to have loved and lost and all that jive.

There’s no explaining this issue. Nope, not at all. It doesn’t even try to make sense. Unlike previous issues, which tried just a little. This finale ultimately comes out as more of a “Wait, what the fuck is that?” than a “ha ha, he got kicked in the head” sort of humour, but I still love it.

Seriously: Devil Motherfucking Dinosaur. Baby MODOK. You know you want to read it.

Local #8: Hey, there’s no spandex here. What happened?

But seriously, I was happy to see another issue of Brian Wood & Ryan Kelly’s oustanding series hit the stands: I was beginning to fear it had fallen in to Oni’s growing Pit of Disappeared Books. Unfortunately, it’s one of the weaker issues so far. It’s a fairly simple love story, with Megan – happy and reasonably well-adjusted, thank goodness – falling for two men: The poor cook or the rich client. The cook is kind of a jealous jerk, while the rich guy seems kind and sympathetic. There’s some misdirection on Wood’s part, but not enough real direction: We don’t know anything about either potential lover. The story works well in portraying Megan’s dilemma and indecision, but doesn’t really convince us that she ultimately makes the right choice. Still, Ryan Kelly continues to improve with every issue, and #1 was pretty darn good on its own. And if nothing else, it’s nice to actually see Megan happy: As Wood comments, Local has become her book, and she’s one of the better comics creations I’ve seen in several years.

A disappointing issue, but only by the otherwise high standards set by the series.

Yet again, it appears the comics industry is doomed, because kids don’t read comics.

Of course, that’s not really what the article is about. The article is about Marvel and DC superhero comics not being for kid. Which is true, for the most part, but it’s only really a problem if you run a business that orders 95% of your inventory from those two companies.

I don’t have any problem with the idea that publishing superhero comics aimed almost exclusively at adults is a pretty dim idea, but Marvel and DC have plenty of dim ideas beyond that one. Even if they started publishing dozens of family-friendly books every month, it’s unlikely that many comic stores would actually order them, catering as they do to the twenty- and thirty-something crowds.

It’s kind of a chicken-and-egg thing, though it makes me wonder: How many of the retailers quoted in the article make an effort to stock these books and attract a younger audience? Most comic stores – and there some very good exceptions – stock only a certain kind of product aimed at a certain audience, so how can they complain when they don’t seem to attract anyone else?

Manga gets a cursory mention, but in the usual sense of being something other than comics – that is, kids are buying comics (that aren’t really comics) in stores that aren’t comic stores, so it doesn’t really count.

No mention is made of the books that have had significant success with young readers, like Bone or American Born Chinese. Again, I guess those sales aren’t coming from the average comic book store.

Thankfully, the article gives us one awesome example that totally proves its point:

The power of graphic novels — lengthy, illustrated stories published in paperback or hardcover — is evident in the upcoming film “300,” which is meant to be a live-action translation of author-artist Frank Miller’s visual style. But “300,’ … [is] rated R, which means no one under 17 is supposed to get into the movie without being accompanied by a parent or adult guardian.

Y’know, Zodiac is out this week, and it’s based on a book, and it’s rated R… does that prove any sort of point that no one publishes prose books for kids? It’s not the same thing, but it doesn’t feel too far off. 300 may be R, but Ghost Rider, Fantastic Four, and Spider-Man 3 are all sitting around the PG level.

There’s a very telling quote in a similar article from Marvel Publisher Dan Buckley:

“Books that lean more toward the humorous don’t do as well in the hobby market.
[emphasis mine]”

It’s so completely, depressingly true: The direct market is largely about a hobby, not about reading. No, comic shops don’t cater to kids, but neither do stores that sell souvenir spoons and Elivs Presley Commemorative Plates.

Seriously, this is the most fucking awesome thing ever.

The brilliance will probably be lost on you if you’ve never seen (or at least read) Jeeves & Wooster. In that case, I offer you my pity and condolences, the sort one offers a 35 year-old virgin in Las Vegas.

… But is it true that the ultimate point was that masked and unidentified vigilantes with incredible super powers enforcing the law on their own terms and waging destructive battles with super-powered villains is a bad thing?

Because that seems kind of obvious.

Other possible interpretations:

• A guy with no superpowers but a bunch of guns is invaluable if you’re fighting a lot of people with superpowers.
• Being an obscure black superhero is not a good idea.
• Spider-Man is kind of stupid and flakey.
• Iron Man is mean.
• Mark Millar licks goats.