Author: Ryan

I know, I said I was going to write about some fun books. I also saw some good movies over the weekend that I’ll probably talk about. But it seems like it’s much easier to do drive-by snarking than sit down and compose my thoughts about something that I actually liked.

First, and most pressing: I bitched about Marvel’s Civil War delays more in general principle than because I actually cared about the book. But this time, it’s personal: WildCATS #1 is going to be late. Yes, I actually wanted to read this one, though more due to Grant Morrison than Jim Lee. But seriously: This is a very high-profile series that’s spearheading an attempted rejuvenation of the whole Wildstorm line. It’s got one of the top writers in the industry, and probably the most popular artist you could find. And it’s late.

As I asked of Civil War: How does this happen? These books were announced nearly a year ago, and solicited three months ago; WildCATS, along with Authority, were even put on a bi-monthly schedule to allow for more time. And it’s still late? That’s not a good sign, particularly a line of books populated by artists who aren’t always particularly tight on deadlines. I think I implied it before, but I’ll just come out and say it here: If the monthly product is such a chore, just give up and publish in graphic novel format. If you can’t sell a Jim Lee/Grant Morrison OGN, you’re just not trying.

Next up: All Star Batgirl? Geoff Johns and J.G. Jones? Can you say “dilution of brand,” boys and girls?

Jim Lee and Frank Miller on Batman, that’s pretty awesome. (in theory, anyway) Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely on Superman is simply divine. Adam Hughes on Wonder Woman? Well, that’s a bit dicier, but Hughes is a pretty awesome artist, even if he’s an unknown quantity as a writer, and he’s just about perfect for the character. Hughes and Wonder Woman is a far bigger draw than Hughes + Green Lantern.

But Batgirl? She’s a nice little character, but not up there with the Big Three, or even the Big Seven. Or probably another dozen or so characters. I have an idea of Batgirl, but don’t actually know anything about her, and I’ve been reading comics for about two decades.

And the creators? Jones has drawn some nice covers and a fairly popular mini, but he’s hardly a star. And while Geoff Johns seems to be inexplicably popular, he’s not exactly a man of vision and daring; his stock in trade seems to be pretty standard corporate superhero stories. He seems pretty big on continuity and making every book DC ever published make sense as a collective whole, so I wonder why they’re even bothering to give him an out-of-continuity book.

A Johns/Jones Batgirl series might be kind of a big deal. But calling it All-Star Batgirl just seems a tad oxymoronic, and setting it up for inevitable disappointment. While All-Star Batman has seen mixed reviews and All-Star Wonder Woman is as yet an unknown quantity, all the books in the line still appear to be top-ten sellers. DC seems intent on breaking that trend.

After doing entirely too much ranting and complaining about books I don’t even read (or, at least, creators’ attitudes towards them), I really do have some fun stuff to talk about: This was an awesome week for comics. But first, I wanted to touch on Mark Millar’s theory on the upcoming demise of the comic book industry.

The general gist is that Hollywood is going to scoop up all the great creators, both writers and artists, and no one will be left to do actual comics as anything more than R&D for movie studios. It’s an interesting theory, but really, incredibly, ridiculously silly.

All of what Millar says is happening now. John Cassaday is directing a film, Adi Granov is doing designs for Iron Man, Steve Skroce and Geof Darrow both work with the Wachowski’s. Writers are selling the rights to their creations, and often getting involved with the productions.

So why, really, would it get worse? As much as there is a migration of talent from comics to Hollywood, there’s a significant flow of talent going the other way. Joss Whedon, Alan Heinberg, Christos Gage, Daniel Knauf, and others have all come from television to comics. Some come to work on childhood heroes, others for the relative freedom; compared to the committee-based production of many films and television shows, even the most high-profile comic books offer a tremendous amount of creative freedom. The same profit margins and mass-audience appeal aren’t required in comics; Firefly wasn’t successful enough on television or film, but Whedon can tell as many stories as he wants in comics.

The other key factor Millar misses is that most comic creators come back from Hollywood. Frank Miller spent time working in Hollywood, but gave up and came back to comics; only Robert Rodriguez’ enthusiasm lured him back to Hollywood. Neil Gaiman certainly doesn’t need comics to pay the rent, yet he writes a new book every year or two. Skroce and Darrow both keep their fingers in the comic stew. Adrian Tomine illustrates The New Yorker, but still finds time for Optic Nerve.

And even if the elite creators all get whisked away to Hollywood, never to return, there will always be new creators coming up. Creators have always left comics for the greener fields Hollywood, advertising, or design, but they’ve also always been replaced.

Millar seems like such a nice guy. It’s a pity he sometimes seems so utterly clueless, or perhaps just desperate to be heard.

In our last episode, we commented upon the unfortunate tendency of certain comic creators to make comparisons that are an attempt to justify a certain philosophy or tactic, but instead just end up making them look like fools.

This week, Judd Winnick talks about making Captain Marvel more serious:

But seriously, silly and funny are two totally different things, and if somebody doesn’t know the difference between them, let’s have that conversation. But just because we’re not going to have a tiger walking around in a suit – that’s silly – doesn’t mean we’re not going to have a tiger that is somewhat anthropomorphic and talks like a man can be very interesting, and still, funny at times with the things he says.

A really funny show? The West Wing. The first four seasons under Aaron Sorkin were really funny because he wrote really funny dialogue. Dialogue can be humorous and light, but still have gravitas. That’s what I’m talking about.

This is a book that should have a certain amount of weight, and Captain Marvel has been treated like a lightweight for years, and I don’t think the character deserves that. I’m not interested in making it a book for seven year olds. I’m not interested in making it silly.

Now Dan, who has a little bit more of a hammer blow delivery is brutally honest about it. We did Plastic Man as a funny all-ages book, and nobody bought it. Kyle Baker was on it for God’s sake. When Kyle wasn’t there, you had someone like Scott Morse filling in. This was a homerun creative situation for that genre. Read Plastic Man, and it’s all there. But no one bought it. It was a brilliant book. Brilliant.

Ah, where to start…

A tiger in a suit is silly. Okay, I’ll buy that. But people with superpowers (frequently gained through radiation or magic) wearing spandex and flying around hitting each other? Not silly at all.

Next up: Judd Winnick is comparing himself to Aaron Sorkin. Or, at least, saying that’s the standard he’s aiming for. Judd: You are not that good. There’s a select handful of people who have ever pulled off that balance of comedy and drama, and Sorkin may just be the best. You are not Aaron Sorkin, and casting The West Wing as the reference point for Trials of Shazam is just asking for trouble.

But back to the silliness: Yes, The West Wing can be serious and funny. (And, I’d argue, quite silly; how else to describe President Bartlett’s endless soliloquay on Thanksgiving spices, or Donna’s fervent exclamations of “Yo Yo Ma rules!”) But the suggestion that there’s no market for silly? Did Talladega Nights not just spend a couple weeks on top of the box office? Did Will & Grace not just pick up a few more Emmy’s, continuing Friends‘ long string of ratings and critical success? Is The Simpsons not the longest-running show in prime time?

Even in comics, there’s plenty of room for silly. Just ask Slave Labor if they’ve found that silly market. And though it seems many at DC would like to pretend it never existed, Giffen, DeMatteis, and McGuire’s Justice League was successful enough to spawn a mini-franchise, and remains a well-remembered classic for good reason. Even Marvel, for god’s sake, publishes Nextwave every month. And if Morrison and Quitely’s All-Star Superman — which outsells anything Winnick produces — isn’t silly, I don’t know what is.

You can’t sell silly? You ain’t trying. You don’t want to write a silly book? You don’t want to write for seven-year-olds? Dear god, man, why are you writing about a kid who turns into a red-spandex-clad superhero after shouting a magic word? It’s such a sad, desperate attempt at infusing maturity and realism into a genre that generally wasn’t built for it and really doesn’t need it.

Winnick is like a 16-year-old boy clutching his copy of Watchmen, telling anyone who’ll listen that comics aren’t just for kids anymore. He seems to have missed that even Alan Moore got tired of dark and mature superheroes more than a decade ago, and has since got quite silly indeed with Top Ten, Tom Strong, and even League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. (But apparently there’s no market for those books.)

There are some superheroes that are suited to a more mature approach, and some creators that can do it well. Neither element seems to be present here.

I should preface this by saying that I honestly don’t care about Civil War for any story or artistic reasons. I’ve got no passion for superhero event comics, having burnt myself out trying to follow a small portion of the mess that was Infinite Crisis. On top of that, I generally find Mark Millar pretty dull: He’s got a nice flair for action and some style, but lacks any sense of subtlety and tends to pile on political commentary that some people seem to find incisive or controversial. (He’s kind of the comic book equivalent of the Wachowski Brothers)

But I find the whole delay debacle quite fascinating from a logistical standpoint. Namely: How do you fuck up something so big so badly?

No one can deny it: Civil War has been insanely successful. Three or four hundred thousand copies sold? Mainstream coverage of Spider-Man’s unmasking? I don’t think it’s a huge understatement to suggest that this is the biggest monthly comics event of the past decade.

Of course, it’s not a monthly comic any more, which is the problem. Or not. Tom Brevoort, who seems to be quite a clever and friendly guy, had this to say:

The whole infrastructure of comic book retailing is changing, and I think what you’re starting to see is the beginning of the movement away from a monthly magazine publishing model over to something more akin to a book publishing model. This is very distressing to a lot of people who’ve grown up with the monthly model as a bedrock concept. But ever since we retreated almost wholly to the Direct Market in terms of the basic comic book product, there’s no compelling reason for the monthly release schedule outside of the need for retailers to have a predictable cash-flow that allows them to keep their doors open.

He’s right, of course. Just because superhero comics have been traditionally monthly doesn’t mean they always have to be. Some can be, but not all; many of the detailed and pseudo-realistic artists that are so popular nowadays are simply not capable of producing 12 issues a year. So you can either have a monthly comic with fill-ins, or a more sporadic one by the same artist. Both models are workable – Lucifer managed quite nicely with Peter Gross as the main artist and Dean Ormston and others covering the standalone issues – but it’s pretty clear which model fans prefer.

And hey, Marvel kind of gets it: They decided it was more important to have seven not-quite-monthly issues of Civil War drawn by Steve McNiven than five or six drawn by McNiven and a couple by someone else. I question the use of the phrase “artistic integrity” used in service of a company-wide crossover that diverges into a couple dozen other books, but whatever; they have the foundation of a good idea.

But that’s not really the problem. If Marvel or DC say that a book is bi-monthly and it ships bi-monthly, then people have no right to complain; I wish that Desolation Jones and Optic Nerve could come out monthly, but it ain’t gonna happen, at least not with the quality that makes me love them so much. No, the problem, as retailer Brian Hibbs points out succinctly, is that a solicitation is a promise that a book is going to be out on a certain date.

This, of course, is where everything falls apart. As Mark Millar says,

Steve had virtually no lead-time on Civil War and a title with a million characters has proven much tougher than he expected. He and I both assumed a fill-in would be on the cards at some point…

So perhaps it wasn’t always about artistic integrity. And Brevoort, at the same link as above, says

I’ve got a writer with a chronic condition, and a penciler who’s never had to handle a story of this magnitude before, with this many unfamiliar characters and situations (not to mention this much spotlight pressure.) Plus, it’s just a hard book to do. And we did get something of a late start, though that might have been surmountable if this was an easier sort of project

So. This project, which is going to alter the status quo for virtually the entire Marvel Universe and cross over with multiple other titles, is already suffering from:

• a writer with a serious, chronic health problem;
• an artist who’s never drawn anything of this calibre before;
• a late start and little lead time for said artist.

Which brings us back to Brevoort’s first point: This series was probably unlikely to ship monthly. Which, as Brevoort says, is fine. But that leads us back to Hibbs’ main point: Why are you soliciting and advertising release dates you don’t expect you’ll be able to meet? Why not wait an extra month or two to allow McNiven to work ahead, and then go monthly? Or state right off the bat that it’ll ship bi-monthly, or every six weeks, or whatever rate you’re comfortable with?

All too often, Marvel (and sometimes DC) seems to base their publishing schedules around the best-case scenario. They assume that everything will go well, that writers with other, more profitable commitments, will turn in scripts punctually, or that artists will suddenly become faster without sacrificing any detail or quality. The strategy seems to be to get the first issue on the stands as quickly as possible, and then ship the rest of the series whenever they get around to it. Moving comics away from the monthly format is a perfectly sensible idea. Soliciting them and then shipping them whenever you get around to it is not.

It’s not a question of timeliness vs. quality, or art vs. commerce. It’s about planning, pure and simple. It’s about promising retailers – many of whom are trying to run a small business with low profit margins and little margin for error – a product on a certain date and not delivering. It’s about telling the whole world about this awesome, “socially relevant” comic that reveals Spider-Man’s secret identity and then delaying not just the main book, but virtually every book the story crosses over into.

Joe Quesada offers a defence, but, like Brevoort, misses the point:

There are so many factors that go into all of this stuff but the biggest factor is that at the core of it there are human beings at all ends of the creative and business spectrums of what we do. We go in with the best of intentions and stuff just happens. To even suggest indifference is really insulting.

If it happened once or twice, then yes, it might be mean-spirited to suggest that Marvel isn’t doing everything they can to ship books on time. But it’s an ever-increasing phenomenon. By this point in the game, why aren’t publishers aware that writers with Hollywood commitments are usually going to put their comics work second? Why does Marvel seem to have no idea how long it takes Bryan Hitch to pencil an issue of Ultimates? Who on Earth thought Adi Granov could handle a monthly Iron Man book? How is the second issue of a brand-new, high-profile series like Wonder Woman late? How do you unexpectedly delay the biggest series in a very long time, along with half your titles, when you knew several months earlier that there might be a problem? Maybe they’re not indifferent, maybe they really are doing their best, but they seem utterly incapable of learning from their mistakes.

And finally, since I’m touching all the bases: Everyone at Marvel needs to stop bringing up Watchmen and Dark Knight as examples of late books. Attention Marvel: Civil War is not Watchmen or Dark Knight. Comparing your book to widely acknowledged and revered classics of the medium is at best immodest, and at worst ridiculous. I suppose it’s
possible that collections of Civil War will still be appearing on best-seller lists a decade from now, but I wouldn’t bet money on it. On top of that, if you’re going to talk about how a good-looking TPB is what’s really important, why not go straight to graphic novel format?

Quesada also brings up the very first issue of Daredevil, pointing out that Marvel wanted Bill Everett to do the whole issue so badly that they missed the print deadline by several months, which was quite a big deal then. He also mentioned that tidbit in an earlier interview; curiously, now he neglects to mention that the first issue had three different inkers (Everett himself, as well as Sal Brodsky and Jack Kirby), that the first page was just a reproduction of Kirby’s cover, or that Everett never drew another issue of Daredevil again. Not exactly the embodiment of the “art takes the time it needs” philosophy.

(And, as a really final word: I would pay good money to read a Joe Friday interview conducted by Brian Hibbs.)

The great thing about the web is that it’s constantly in flux. Make a mistake on your webpage, you can fix it five minutes later. If your product changes, you can update the webpage quickly and easily.

I don’t think DC knows this. Because the front page still includes this among this week’s releases:

SEVEN SOLDIERS OF VICTORY VOL. 4
Written by Grant Morrison; Art by Doug Mahnke, Freddie Williams III, Yanick Paquette and Michael Bair; Cover by Mahnke

The brilliant mind of Grant Morrison (THE INVISIBLES, JLA, ANIMAL MAN, DOOM PATROL, New X—Men) is showcased once again as his most groundbreaking and ambitious project concludes! This fourth volume in the series features the exploits of three of the seven soldiers: Mister Miracle, Bulleteer, and Frankenstein from SEVEN SOLDIERS: FRANKENSTEIN #2—4, SEVEN SOLDIERS: MISTER MIRACLE #3 and 4, SEVEN SOLDIERS: BULLETEER #3 and 4, and SEVEN SOLDIERS OF VICTORY #1. Independently, each of these characters is featured in a story arc that redefines his or her purpose in the DCU. But their stories also interweave with the other Soldiers’ tales, forming a grander story of a devastating global threat to mankind. Together these reluctant champions must arise and somehow work together to save the world…without ever meeting one another!

DC Universe | 224pg. | Color | Softcover | $14.99 US | ISBN 1401209777

On Sale July 26, 2006

For one thing, it’s not even correct: J.H. Williams should be listed among the artists, since he’s doing #1.

But of course, he hasn’t done it yet, and the issue has been pushed off to October. Which means this collection won’t even be published until the end of the year, if not 2007.

None of this was even recent; Seven Soldiers #1 was supposed to be released in April, and was officially cancelled a month or two ago. DC has even updated their site with the resolicited issue.

How long could it possibly take to change or delete the entry? It’s been on the front page for several days now; has no one noticed?

(and yes, some of this is just an anger outlet because I’m mad SS #1 was delayed so abysmally in the first place)

Everything Girl Wonder has to say about this cover is true.

Sure, it’s not like drawing Supergirl like a rubber sex toy is anything new for DC; thus far, only Barry Kitson seems to be able (or willing) to draw her like a spunky teen superheroine instead of a model asking to be spanked in a Just 18! photo spread. But it bears pointing out, repeatedly, because this is one of DC’s most iconic characters, and one with the most potential for attracting young, female readers, and DC keeps using her as some pseudo-porn-panties model. Bleah.

But that’s not what bugs me. (I’m kind of numb to that by now) No, the bizarre thing here, for which I’m entirely blaming Jim Lee, is the prominence given to Nightwing’s boot tread.

No, really.

What’s the point? What’s the need to see what kind of boot tread Nightwing uses? What kind of bizarre logic makes the bottom of Dick Grayson’s foot the focal point of the cover? If you’re going to draw a porn star on the cover, at least make sure the audience is looking at her breasts or her tantalizingly short skirt.

We never used to see this sort of thing. In fact, I can’t ever remember seeing it before this:

It’s one of those things that makes audiences say “Oh! How detailed!” And oh, the detail. But it’s a pointless detail. It’s an unneccessary detail that doesn’t actually say anything beyond “Look at the detail!” Sure, it’s good for key objects to be detailed in any artwork, but why is the sole of someone’s foot the key object? Why do we really care about Batman’s foot? And if we don’t care about Batman’s foot, we sure as hell don’t care about Nightwing’s foot. And if we don’t care about Batman’s foot as drawn by Jim Lee, then we’d really rather look at anything other than Nightwing’s foot as drawn by Rob Liefeld Michael Turner Ian Churchill.

Really, Ian: If you’re that concerned about detail, how about a pose for Nightwing that actually makes sense. He seems to be kicking out at the reader, but the buildings also suggest he’s coming down. And his legs are going one way, but his torso is going another, which doesn’t make much sense while swinging from a rope. Maybe Todd McFarlane or Erik Larsen could put Spider-Man in that kind of pose and make it look cool, but on Nightwing? And by Churchill? I think not.

On second thought, just about everything about this cover bugs me. It’s really very bad.

But, to end on a positive note, how ’bout Barry Kitson’s cover to Supergirl and the Legion of Super-Heroes for the same month?

No, it’s not a great cover. I’ve seen much better from Kitson, and I really just chose it because it was from the same month as Churchill’s abomination. But look at her: She’s wearing the same costume, yet her skirt isn’t flying over her head. She’s not thrusting any bodyparts out into space. She’s got a tough, heroic pose; she’s there to kick ass and take names, not show ass and collect phone numbers. She’s the star of the book, not just a decoration.

Also, note how we have no idea what the soles of her boots look like.

There might be hope after all.