Title: The Dark Knight Returns
Writer/Penciller: Frank Miller
Inker: Klaus Janson
Colorist: Lynn Varley
Letterist: John Constanza
Editors: Dick Giordano, Dennis O'Neil
The real title of this post should be something more like, "My god, I don't want to punch Frank Miller in the throat!"
This came as a real surprise to me, but then again The Dark Knight Returns was published in 1986, early on in his career and long before Sin City or The Spirit or, ugh, Daddy's Little Girl. For my feelings on those subjects, please refer to this Shortpacked! strip. Miller never met a fictional woman that he didn't want to turn into a whore and/or kill; witness Batman: Year One, published just a year after TDKR, in which he retcons Selina Kyle's origins from fierce cat burglar to a dominatrix/prostitute. (And let's not even discuss his retconning of the entire Spartan society to a bunch of hetero manly men who use the term "boy-lover" in scorn. Frank, I know some ancient Greek urns you should have a look at.)
But I digress.
Catwoman makes a brief appearance in TDKR as, of course, the boozy madame of an escort service. Yet that was one of the only plot points that got my hackles up. Yes, Batman was presented as a scary psychopath, but hell, everyone in the comic is a little bit crazy. Miller does not have an optimistic view of humanity, an opinion that hovers one skip and a jump away from outright fascism. The denizens of Gotham are presented as mindless and panicky animals who riot the second the lights go out, and are only brought to heel by having a gun pointed at them (by Jim Gordon) or having their femurs broken (by Batman). It must be said that Miller seems at least partially aware of his fascist tendencies, as he has minor characters point them out in Batman. Still, Miller's recent statements about 9/11 and the Iraq war seem to indicate that he's abandoned any hesitancy he had about the right-wing agenda.
While the comic's drawbacks lie in ideology, its strengths are mostly technical. The artwork is fantastic, if jam-packed: every inch of every page is filled with panels, sometimes up to 20 panels per page. It was a jolt when I first started reading, yet once I got used to it I didn't have any problems keeping the action straight, and boy howdy did that make the action fly.
And then there's Carrie fucking Kelley. I love Carrie Kelley, though I worry for her long-term chances with someone as twisted up inside as Bruce Wayne. But I give Miller props for creating a female character as independent and resourceful as Carrie: the 13-year-old progeny of neglectful drug addicts ("Hey...didn't we have a kid?"), she takes up the mask of Robin after seeing Batman in action. It's clearly a quest for purpose, and on the way she saves Batman's ass more than once. I love their relationship, in which Batman punctuates his stern lectures with "Careful..." and "Watch out..." as they hop between skyscrapers. There was a moment in The Dark Knight Triumphant when wee little Carrie embraces a totally-naked Bruce, and I raised a warning fist at Frank Miller; but he didn't Go There, thank god.
There's another moment later, in Hunt the Dark Knight, where Carrie almost falls to her death and barely manages to catch Bruce's cape. He reels her in and murmurs "Good soldier. Good soldier." as she grips onto him high above the city. Fucking awesome character.
Another pleasant surprise to me was Ellen Yindel, the police commissioner who takes over after Jim Gordon retires. Determined to catch Batman, she comes pretty damn close. She's an antagonist, but a principled one, and never comes off as a villain.
On the whole, an impressively non-infuriating reading experience. Well done, Frank. Your throat shall go unpunched today.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Reader Response: Persepolis
Title: Persepolis
Writer/Artist: Marjane Satrapi
Published: 2003
Now's a timely moment to pick this book up. The story of Persepolis details the events of the 1979 cultural revolution that overthrew the Shah and brought in the Islamic regime, but it bears a strong resemblence to current events. History, unfortunately, repeats itself. (Satrapi has recently made statements supporting the progressive movement in Iran.)
The story begins with little Marji, age 10. She's a precocious kid, the child of Marxist intellectuals, but a kid nonetheless: when veils become mandatory at school she and her schoolmates use theirs to play jump rope. She dreams of becoming a prophet and a great leader. Over the next four years, though, the world edges into Marji's life and dreams. It's haunting to watch the slow creep of repression: people assume that totalitarian regimes swoop in overnight with death squads, and there is plenty of violence in Persepolis. Friends of the family emerge from the shah's prisons only to suddenly disappear again, and discover that their torturers are the same. (I for one had no idea that many of the original revolutionaries were communists like Marji's parents.) But even more chilling, I got the impression of little inches, little creeping ways that their new government took control. It has ominous meanings for modern Iran (and the U.S.).
Despite the heavy subject matter, Satrapi manages to inject little moments of humor and humanity. When she and her father discuss the unfolding conflict with Iraq, 12-year-old Marji insists, "The Iraqis have always been our enemies. They want to invade us." Her father muses: "And worse, they drive like maniacs." Minor characters come and go - with Marji and her parents as the sole constants - but all are developed.
The illustrations are plain black and white, fairly simple, but perfectly suited to a story so dramatic and complicated. I occasionally had trouble telling characters apart, but not that often. An excellent, intelligent graphic novel. The last panel will stay with you for a long, long time, as it obviously stayed with Satrapi.
Writer/Artist: Marjane Satrapi
Published: 2003
Now's a timely moment to pick this book up. The story of Persepolis details the events of the 1979 cultural revolution that overthrew the Shah and brought in the Islamic regime, but it bears a strong resemblence to current events. History, unfortunately, repeats itself. (Satrapi has recently made statements supporting the progressive movement in Iran.)
The story begins with little Marji, age 10. She's a precocious kid, the child of Marxist intellectuals, but a kid nonetheless: when veils become mandatory at school she and her schoolmates use theirs to play jump rope. She dreams of becoming a prophet and a great leader. Over the next four years, though, the world edges into Marji's life and dreams. It's haunting to watch the slow creep of repression: people assume that totalitarian regimes swoop in overnight with death squads, and there is plenty of violence in Persepolis. Friends of the family emerge from the shah's prisons only to suddenly disappear again, and discover that their torturers are the same. (I for one had no idea that many of the original revolutionaries were communists like Marji's parents.) But even more chilling, I got the impression of little inches, little creeping ways that their new government took control. It has ominous meanings for modern Iran (and the U.S.).
Despite the heavy subject matter, Satrapi manages to inject little moments of humor and humanity. When she and her father discuss the unfolding conflict with Iraq, 12-year-old Marji insists, "The Iraqis have always been our enemies. They want to invade us." Her father muses: "And worse, they drive like maniacs." Minor characters come and go - with Marji and her parents as the sole constants - but all are developed.
The illustrations are plain black and white, fairly simple, but perfectly suited to a story so dramatic and complicated. I occasionally had trouble telling characters apart, but not that often. An excellent, intelligent graphic novel. The last panel will stay with you for a long, long time, as it obviously stayed with Satrapi.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
I'm still working on the "money" part...
A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.
I have moved into a one-bedroom mother-in-law apartment in Milwaukie. It is only the second time in my life I have lived alone, not since the second half of senior year in college, when I lived in what my family still refers to as "The Crawlspace."
This is much more spacious, and for half as much. The landlords - an older couple - have been appraised of the drums and rocking out and so forth, and thus far seem okay with it. I'm not sure if the place merits a nickname. I think I shall call it "This Land." ("I think we should call it YOUR GRAVE.")
So. A new decade ~begins~.
The Law of Godfather Montages dictates that I must mention a death to pair my rebirth, so I hereby take a moment to mourn the passing of DAR: A Super Girly Top Secret Comic Diary. It sounds like the artist Erika Moen is moving on to new projects, so brava; still, I'll miss the comic. Moen was always so open with her life, and I appreciated that she called herself a dyke who happened to be married to a man. Down with restrictive labels, dammit!
I've decided to try to do more with this blog, so I'm going to start using it as my reader-response page for whatever comics I'm currently reading. So, look for that.
I have moved into a one-bedroom mother-in-law apartment in Milwaukie. It is only the second time in my life I have lived alone, not since the second half of senior year in college, when I lived in what my family still refers to as "The Crawlspace."
This is much more spacious, and for half as much. The landlords - an older couple - have been appraised of the drums and rocking out and so forth, and thus far seem okay with it. I'm not sure if the place merits a nickname. I think I shall call it "This Land." ("I think we should call it YOUR GRAVE.")
So. A new decade ~begins~.
The Law of Godfather Montages dictates that I must mention a death to pair my rebirth, so I hereby take a moment to mourn the passing of DAR: A Super Girly Top Secret Comic Diary. It sounds like the artist Erika Moen is moving on to new projects, so brava; still, I'll miss the comic. Moen was always so open with her life, and I appreciated that she called herself a dyke who happened to be married to a man. Down with restrictive labels, dammit!
I've decided to try to do more with this blog, so I'm going to start using it as my reader-response page for whatever comics I'm currently reading. So, look for that.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
There's a group of 150 Ukranian women* who have retreated from society, choosing to live in the Carpathian Mountains and study martial arts, austerity, and the use of medieval weaponry.
You realize it's only a matter of time before they become vigilantes for great justice. They have distinct costumes and hairstyles. They have the training. They even have a cool name for their League of Fierce Awesome: Asgarda. I mean, look at that last picture, #10, the one with the axes and the swords. That woman could GUT you and wear your skin as a pelt.
THE DAY WILL COME. Seriously, though, does anyone know of a comic book series in which a sect of women finally Aren't Taking It Anymore and rise up in violent revolt against the patriarchy??? Not just aimless, doomed Thelmas and Louises, but an actual organized force like Asgarda.
*Ukraine leads Eastern Europe in human trafficking, particularly women forced into the sex trade.
You realize it's only a matter of time before they become vigilantes for great justice. They have distinct costumes and hairstyles. They have the training. They even have a cool name for their League of Fierce Awesome: Asgarda. I mean, look at that last picture, #10, the one with the axes and the swords. That woman could GUT you and wear your skin as a pelt.
THE DAY WILL COME. Seriously, though, does anyone know of a comic book series in which a sect of women finally Aren't Taking It Anymore and rise up in violent revolt against the patriarchy??? Not just aimless, doomed Thelmas and Louises, but an actual organized force like Asgarda.
*Ukraine leads Eastern Europe in human trafficking, particularly women forced into the sex trade.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Follow me to the reckoning of all things.
I've got Mastema on the mind. This is an ongoing thing: I've been semi-obsessed with her story since high school, and have written her in short stories, films scripts, TV scripts, and now in a potential comic book.
Over the course of all this I've written several different versions of her. All of them are hot and vicious and snarky; this is immutable. Beyond that, though...I reread the opening of the film script that I wrote a while ago and was struck by how much more human she was.
WIDE ON the kitchen. It was porn set, but now it looks like a horror film. Dead bodies lie everywhere, including the SLUTTY WAITRESS, the DIRECTOR, and the CAMERAMAN. It's a grotesque mess of camera equipment, nudity, broken limbs, and blood.
ANGLE ON Paul. His own chest is stabbed to bits. He stares.
By now Mastema's got a neat little row of plastic forks in front of her. She looks up at Paul.
Paul's not listening; he's staring at the holes in his chest. Mastema leans forward and SNAPS her fingers at him. Paul jumps.
Okay, so not a WHOLE lot more human - but she has moments of such vulnerability in the movie version. Basically she's this immortal spirit who's been forced to take human form in order to escape a twisted science experiment, aka Heaven. In becoming human, tho, she has to contend with pesky things like pain and hunger and fear and being stupidly, achingly in love with someone who (at the time the script starts) hates her guts. She looks down on human beings a lot for their many flaws, but at the end of the day she's just as messed up as everyone else.
TV-Mastema was a lot harder, a lot meaner. She had to be: I'd set up a typical TV cast of secondary characters around her (a single main lead would never work in the 14-hour workdays of television), and populated it with similarly cutthroat, duplicitous demons. She was swimming with the sharks, and she had to have more teeth than anyone else around. It was kind of a pointless viciousness, tho: she was very much at the beck and call of the angelic host.
The comic-Mastema that I've written so far is a lot colder than movie-Mastema, and a lot more calculating than TV-Mastema. She has an endgame and she's more than willing to sacrifice other people, including those closest to her, in order to further her goals. And yeah, that ultimate goal is a doozy and worth the sacrifice, but I don't know how much readers are willing to stick with that sort of character...particularly, I have to say, that sort of female character. Which was kind of my motivation for writing her that way, but I have to also be realistic about my audience, here. Walk that fine line and all.
The long and the short of it is: I think I'm gonna try rewriting the Mastema comic to reflect more of the movie-Mastema characterizations. It means scrapping a lot of work, but I think it's for the best - and hey, that means I won't be abandoning the whole movie script that I wrote.
Over the course of all this I've written several different versions of her. All of them are hot and vicious and snarky; this is immutable. Beyond that, though...I reread the opening of the film script that I wrote a while ago and was struck by how much more human she was.
WIDE ON the kitchen. It was porn set, but now it looks like a horror film. Dead bodies lie everywhere, including the SLUTTY WAITRESS, the DIRECTOR, and the CAMERAMAN. It's a grotesque mess of camera equipment, nudity, broken limbs, and blood.
ANGLE ON Paul. His own chest is stabbed to bits. He stares.
PAUL
(whimpering)
Oh my God...
By now Mastema's got a neat little row of plastic forks in front of her. She looks up at Paul.
MASTEMA
No. No God yet. I need you here.
PAUL
Who are you?
MASTEMA
My name is Mastema.
PAUL
What happened?
MASTEMA
You died. More to the point, you were murdered. I brought you back.
PAUL
How?
MASTEMA
Magic.
PAUL
Really?
MASTEMA
No, not really. I just don't feel like explaining it to you. Did you see who killed you?
Paul's not listening; he's staring at the holes in his chest. Mastema leans forward and SNAPS her fingers at him. Paul jumps.
MASTEMA (CONT'D)
Paul. Focus.
PAUL
How do you know my name?
MASTEMA
Magic.
(off his look, irritated)
No, not really. I went through your wallet while you were dead. Who killed you?
Okay, so not a WHOLE lot more human - but she has moments of such vulnerability in the movie version. Basically she's this immortal spirit who's been forced to take human form in order to escape a twisted science experiment, aka Heaven. In becoming human, tho, she has to contend with pesky things like pain and hunger and fear and being stupidly, achingly in love with someone who (at the time the script starts) hates her guts. She looks down on human beings a lot for their many flaws, but at the end of the day she's just as messed up as everyone else.
TV-Mastema was a lot harder, a lot meaner. She had to be: I'd set up a typical TV cast of secondary characters around her (a single main lead would never work in the 14-hour workdays of television), and populated it with similarly cutthroat, duplicitous demons. She was swimming with the sharks, and she had to have more teeth than anyone else around. It was kind of a pointless viciousness, tho: she was very much at the beck and call of the angelic host.
The comic-Mastema that I've written so far is a lot colder than movie-Mastema, and a lot more calculating than TV-Mastema. She has an endgame and she's more than willing to sacrifice other people, including those closest to her, in order to further her goals. And yeah, that ultimate goal is a doozy and worth the sacrifice, but I don't know how much readers are willing to stick with that sort of character...particularly, I have to say, that sort of female character. Which was kind of my motivation for writing her that way, but I have to also be realistic about my audience, here. Walk that fine line and all.
The long and the short of it is: I think I'm gonna try rewriting the Mastema comic to reflect more of the movie-Mastema characterizations. It means scrapping a lot of work, but I think it's for the best - and hey, that means I won't be abandoning the whole movie script that I wrote.
Monday, November 16, 2009
It's no fun unless the world is ending.
As of last Saturday I have "A Teenager's Guide" fully outlined. As my projects are wont to do, it turned out a bit bigger (16 chapters) than I'd expected (12 chapters); I tend to go epic with my stories.
So with Chapter 1 written and polished, the outline done, and a rough draft of Chapter 2 written, I find myself wondering what I should work on at the moment. I'm sort of inclined to poke at another comic I've written called "Nevermore." Glancing to my project list, I realize that I haven't even talked about it here, and the completed rough draft of the first issue has been sitting on my hard drive for months.
Nevermore is the story of Kim Conrad, a God-fearin', gun-totin' lesbian badass who never met a woman she didn't want to bang and is quite handy with blunt instruments. Her best buddy in the whole world is Josh Crosby; they're raising Josh's son Taylor after the death of Josh's wife. Their semi-quiet life gets torn apart, though, by the arrival of the mysterious Grey People. Suddenly, whole buildings are disappearing into thin air, Josh is transformed into a heroin addict who doesn't recognize Kim, and Taylor's nowhere to be found. And what's with all the Edgar Allan Poe references?
The series is a scifi mystery-comedy, as Kim and Josh search for Taylor and struggle to figure out what the hell is going on. Here, have a snippet from the first issue:
Panel 1
Establishing panel inside Josh’s small kitchen. It’s definitely the apartment of a single dad, with space rockets on the curtains and a bunch of appliances to make cooking easier. Still, it’s homey. The fridge is covered with Taylor’s starred homework. Josh is at the stove poking pancakes with a spatula. Conrad sits at the table reading a newspaper.
Panel 2
Josh carries a plate of pancakes over to the table. He looks down at the pancakes instead of at her. Conrad looks up at him with concern. In the background the pan smokes.
Panel 3
High angle, looking over Josh’s shoulder down at Conrad. He rubs the back of his neck, his expression unhappy. She’s having none of it.
Panel 4
We see Taylor from the back as he wanders into the kitchen dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Josh and Conrad shoot him uncomfortable looks.
Panel 5
Josh heads back to the stove. Conrad pushes the pancakes over to Taylor, who settles in the other chair and reaches for the syrup.
Panel 1
Medium panel of the kitchen. Conrad makes a horrified face at Josh, who silently points the spatula – dripping pancake batter – at her. Taylor doesn’t see.
Panel 2
Small panel. Conradn looks at Taylor sharply. Behind her, Josh stares, too.
Panel 3
Small panel. Taylor smiles innocently up at them, a pancake skewered on his fork.
Panel 4
Conrad puts both of her arms up in surrender. Josh looks like he might hit her with the spatula. Outside, brakes squeal and Taylor jumps up.
And then later she fights dinosaurs with a chainsaw. >:)
So with Chapter 1 written and polished, the outline done, and a rough draft of Chapter 2 written, I find myself wondering what I should work on at the moment. I'm sort of inclined to poke at another comic I've written called "Nevermore." Glancing to my project list, I realize that I haven't even talked about it here, and the completed rough draft of the first issue has been sitting on my hard drive for months.
Nevermore is the story of Kim Conrad, a God-fearin', gun-totin' lesbian badass who never met a woman she didn't want to bang and is quite handy with blunt instruments. Her best buddy in the whole world is Josh Crosby; they're raising Josh's son Taylor after the death of Josh's wife. Their semi-quiet life gets torn apart, though, by the arrival of the mysterious Grey People. Suddenly, whole buildings are disappearing into thin air, Josh is transformed into a heroin addict who doesn't recognize Kim, and Taylor's nowhere to be found. And what's with all the Edgar Allan Poe references?
The series is a scifi mystery-comedy, as Kim and Josh search for Taylor and struggle to figure out what the hell is going on. Here, have a snippet from the first issue:
Panel 1
Establishing panel inside Josh’s small kitchen. It’s definitely the apartment of a single dad, with space rockets on the curtains and a bunch of appliances to make cooking easier. Still, it’s homey. The fridge is covered with Taylor’s starred homework. Josh is at the stove poking pancakes with a spatula. Conrad sits at the table reading a newspaper.
JOSH:
I like how you offered but I’m the one behind the stove.
CONRAD:
If the Good Lord had intended me to cook, he wouldn’t have created other women.
JOSH:
You’re the most chauvinistic person I know.
CONRAD:
The irony was too beautiful to pass up.
Panel 2
Josh carries a plate of pancakes over to the table. He looks down at the pancakes instead of at her. Conrad looks up at him with concern. In the background the pan smokes.
JOSH:
Listen, I was wanting to ask you…Taylor’s class is going on this trip in Eastern Oregon next month.
JOSH:
It costs three hundred…
CONRAD:
You need me to pitch in? Dude, of course.
Panel 3
High angle, looking over Josh’s shoulder down at Conrad. He rubs the back of his neck, his expression unhappy. She’s having none of it.
JOSH:
Thanks. I’ll pay you –
CONRAD:
The hell you will.
JOSH:
I don’t want to just –
CONRAD:
If you don’t take it I’ll spend it on hookers. And then I’ll get Chlamydia.
CONRAD:
Do you want me to get Chlamydia, Josh? Do you?
Panel 4
We see Taylor from the back as he wanders into the kitchen dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Josh and Conrad shoot him uncomfortable looks.
TAYLOR:
What’s Clymidia?
JOSH AND CONRAD (in unison, sharing the bubble):
Uhhh…tell you when you’re older.
CONRAD:
So, uh, how’s school?
Panel 5
Josh heads back to the stove. Conrad pushes the pancakes over to Taylor, who settles in the other chair and reaches for the syrup.
TAYLOR:
Today we have to give a speech ‘bout what we wanna be when we grow up.
CONRAD:
Oh yeah? What’re you gonna say?
TAYLOR:
A clown.
Panel 1
Medium panel of the kitchen. Conrad makes a horrified face at Josh, who silently points the spatula – dripping pancake batter – at her. Taylor doesn’t see.
CONRAD:
A clown? Really? That’s awesome!
TAYLOR:
Or a ‘struction worker, like Daddy –
JOSH:
Construction, Tay
TAYLOR:
-- or a lesbian.
Panel 2
Small panel. Conradn looks at Taylor sharply. Behind her, Josh stares, too.
CONRAD:
What now?
Panel 3
Small panel. Taylor smiles innocently up at them, a pancake skewered on his fork.
TAYLOR:
A lesbian, like you.
Panel 4
Conrad puts both of her arms up in surrender. Josh looks like he might hit her with the spatula. Outside, brakes squeal and Taylor jumps up.
CONRAD:
I didn’t do it. It’s the most awesome thing ever, but I didn’t do it.
JOSH:
You…you…
SFX (OP):
Screeeeeeech
TAYLOR:
That’s my bus!
And then later she fights dinosaurs with a chainsaw. >:)
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
ATG developments
Much going on. I've signed a contract with Sienna Morris to have the first chapter out by the end of the year. You can check out sketches and other pieces of Sienna's work here. Besides being totally enthusiastic about my weird little story, Sienna is a fantastic artist who did an amazing series of paintings called Numberism. Check them out!
Sienna is currently doing character sketches and laying out the pages. I'm working on an outline for the whole graphic novel, which I'm shocked I haven't done yet. Usually I write that out first thing, but something about teenagers and zombies has thrown my usual MO for a loop.
*****
I find myself nervous about how not-witty I am. Every writer has hir strengths: mine are plot and pacing. If I designed a car, it would have a powerful motor, airbags for every seat, and would never break down; it would also probably have doors that were different colors from the rest of the body, crochet seat covers, and a bent antennae. I don't know what the antennae would be there for, nobody listens to the radio anymore. But it'd be there.
My point being: witty dialogue is not my strong point. Never has been. Which is a problem because, well, that's very often what sells a story no matter the medium, but especially comic books. Think about the dialogue in a comic book: it's fast, punchy, a snap to every dialogue bubble.
Pardon moi while I fret.
*****
On the plus side, I get to blow up a church.
*****
TOOLS OF THE TRADE:
I used this as a template for writing my work-for-hire contract with Sienna. We made a few changes and I left out big chunks of the more technical babble, but that's mostly it.
Sienna is currently doing character sketches and laying out the pages. I'm working on an outline for the whole graphic novel, which I'm shocked I haven't done yet. Usually I write that out first thing, but something about teenagers and zombies has thrown my usual MO for a loop.
*****
I find myself nervous about how not-witty I am. Every writer has hir strengths: mine are plot and pacing. If I designed a car, it would have a powerful motor, airbags for every seat, and would never break down; it would also probably have doors that were different colors from the rest of the body, crochet seat covers, and a bent antennae. I don't know what the antennae would be there for, nobody listens to the radio anymore. But it'd be there.
My point being: witty dialogue is not my strong point. Never has been. Which is a problem because, well, that's very often what sells a story no matter the medium, but especially comic books. Think about the dialogue in a comic book: it's fast, punchy, a snap to every dialogue bubble.
Pardon moi while I fret.
*****
On the plus side, I get to blow up a church.
*****
TOOLS OF THE TRADE:
I used this as a template for writing my work-for-hire contract with Sienna. We made a few changes and I left out big chunks of the more technical babble, but that's mostly it.
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