April 2008
#1st Impressions |
Terry Moore’s Echo (Abstract Studio), David Lapham’s Young Liars (Vertigo), and Jeff Smith’s RASL (Cartoon Books)
Three of the true auteurs of comics have
launched new series this past month. In many ways, of
course, David Lapham (Stray
Bullets), Jeff
Smith (Bone), and Terry Moore (Strangers in
Paradise) could
not be more different. But they share many things in
common. For one, all three began self-published titles in
the 1990s (Smith in 1991, Moore in 1994, and Lapham in
1995) at a time when successful self-publishing was almost
unheard of. All three went on to produce long-running
series which opened up new possibilities for comics and
their creators. And even more, all three opened up the
world of comics to new readers who thought themselves too
cool, too old, too young, or too… well, female to read
comics. There are, in truth, dozens of remarkable creators
who never would have brought their talents to this medium
if not for their work, and countless readers who would be
doing much more respectable things with their time if they
hadn’t become hooked on these three remarkable series a
decade ago.
I say all this, because this new semi-regular feature
in guttergeek is all about first impressions, focusing
on the first issue of a series only. We will revisit them
individually down the road if those impressions prove
tragically wrong, as is entirely likely. But the fact
remains that while I am one of those readers who would
probably not be here today were it not for Smith, Moore and
Lapham, if I am being honest, there is only one of these
three new series by these remarkable talents that I am
truly looking forward to following into issue #2.
Jeff Smith’s new project is RASL, which tells the story of a
dimension-hopping, hopped-up, hobgoblin-like art thief who
makes a wrong turn during a routine Picasso heist and winds
up being hunted by a strange beastial creature from another
dimension. There is not a lot of narration here in the
first issue, not a lot of back-story, but we get the basic
conceit pretty quickly. RASL escapes with his loot by
hopping into alternative dimensions, a brutal process which
requires him to drink himself comatose and indulge his
carnal appetites for days on end. Coming back, however,
requires a whole purification ceremony, entering a state of
pure spirit. These two extremes of pure body and pure
spirit define his life—and, I fear, define the limits of
the deep thinking this book has to offer.
Ultimately, there is not much in the premise to make me
very excited about the future in any of the dimensions into
which our protagonist will be drifting. The whole concept
feels so far-out that it is actually kind of easy, which
puts all the weight on the character himself. And he is not
much of a draw. In addition to his aforementioned bipolar
lifestyle, he is frankly just not very attractive. It is
clear that after Bone and Smith’s sparkling and imaginative run
on Shazam! The
Monster Society of Evil, he understandably wants to try his hand
at something more “edgy” and R-rated. But while Smith
handles the action in this fast-moving book beautifully,
his protagonist still ends up looking a bit Bone-ish:
short, squat, big headed and not entirely believable as a
human being. Of course, that might be the point down the
road, but for now RASL—for all his grimacing, grunting, and
potty-mouth—made me wonder how he might be rendered as a
plush toy.
Next on tap is Lapham’s Young Liars. Unlike his two companions in first-issue
rollouts this month, Lapham’s 90s work might not be as well
known to some readers who know him best for his recent
mainstream work (most visibly, his “City of Crime” script
for Detective
Comics).
Stray Bullets
always remained something of
a cult hit, due in part to extremely complex plotting
across time and space (making Pulp Fiction look like Dick &
Jane) and the
limited distribution and advertising resources of his El
Capitan label. But for me, Stray Bullets, more than almost any book I started
reading in the 90s, helped pull me back into the world of
comics just when I thought I was out.
Young Liars, in
many ways feels as if it is cut from the same cloth
as Stray
Bullets: violent,
fast-paced, centered around the exploits of a ball-busting,
sexy, psychochick. Of course, in Stray Bullets
the psychochick, Amy Racecar,
was the imaginary projection of a very real, very
vulnerable girl named Virginia Applejack, and that was what
made Amy’s character so moving and so attractive. In fact,
in his Amy Racecar stories in Stray Bullets, Lapham seemed to be in part poking fun
at the juvenile fantasies of ultraviolence and anarchy—sex,
drugs and rock-n-roll—as truly liberatory or revelatory.
In Young
Liars, however,
that mature perspective from a much younger Lapham seems to
have fallen by the wayside.
Young Liars tells
the story of Danny Noonan, our narrator, come to New York
to trade in smalltown life for big city dreams, and his
far-out, fast-paced, funky-bunch gang. At the center of the
gang is Sadie Dawkins, a young heiress with a bullet in her
brain destroying her future and her inhibitions. The whole
thing is meant to be read with the stereo turned up playing
rock that only a middle aged cartoonist would think was
still hip. And the whole thing left me feeling, frankly, as
one fellow middle-aged man to another, like Lapham was
pandering, pleading, trying too hard and somehow missing
the point of what made his earlier ultraviolence so very,
very smart. But having been left dangling at the end of one
of the many unfinished threads of Stray Bullets, I will be there to see where this
current “wild ride” takes us. But I would trade it all in
for another issue of Stray Bullets
in a second.
The one first issue that truly wowed me was Terry
Moore’s Echo. And this was something of a surprise
for me; while I always admired Moore’s talents on
Strangers, I couldn’t help but feel (wrongly, as
it turned out) that there was something Love &
Rockets-lite
about the whole thing. I am grateful for all the new fans,
and especially women readers, that Moore’s series brought
to comics, and I admire the hell out of his pencil work and
his ability to create absolutely believable, incredibly
sexy women characters. But from day one, I was never fully
absorbed by Strangers, which finished its 15 year run just a
few short months ago. The soap opera aspects were never
quite trashy enough for me, the comedy never quite funny
enough, and the drama often felt like a bad episode of
the O.C.
So imagine my surprise when I picked up Echo and found myself riveted before I even
opened the book. The cover is a glorious accomplishment in
itself, embossing the metallic rain that will transform and
consume our protagonist (yes, another very sexy lady) in
the months to come. In addition to lowered expectations I
also came to Echo with less pre-launch hype: I know very
little about the plans for this story but I am eager to
learn more. Since ending Strangers, Moore has been (like his fellow-indies,
Lapham and Smith) spending more time around the world of
mainstream comics, scripting for the next storyarc
of Runaways and other work for Marvel. In this case,
the cape writing seems to have paid off with a really
lively action/scifi story that conveys confidence from the
start that its creator knows where he is going, and why.
Even as the first issue suggests a more predictable comic
book setup than its cohorts this month, I am more willing
to believe in the future of Echo than either of its more cutting-edge
colleagues.
All of this said, this is a good month for comics, if only
because it is a reminder that the world of indie comics and
mainstream comics is closer every day, and that creators
can work for the Man and still return to their roots and
their own labels (and vice versa). Ten years ago, the
worlds of alternative comics and comic books seemed worlds
apart. Going forward, there is promise of great
cross-polination to come. And for that reason alone, I
encourage everyone to grab all three of these first issues.
And come back for #2 of Echo.
